


Re-Write: Turn Back the Clock

by IronScript



Series: Turn Back the Clock [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Both Remember, Don't Judge Me, M/M, Miraculous Ladybug Crossover, Multi, RIP Yakov's Hair, SO MUCH FLUFF, Self-Indulgent, Social Media presence, Time Travel, Vicchan and Makkachin are basically immortal, Viktor is so extra, YouTuber Yuuri, Yuuri deserves more time to show his awesomeness so here it is, Yuuri is 14 and Viktor is 18 at the start, potentially cavity-inducing, they eventually adopted Yurio, they respect underage laws though, very little angst, viktor with a 'k'
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2018-12-03 04:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 29,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11524734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronScript/pseuds/IronScript
Summary: When Yuuri and Viktor wake up decades in the past, they don't know what to do. Does the other remember them, or are they doomed to try and recreate the relationship they were always meant to have?Luckily that particular question is quickly answered and resolved, but even then, there are obstacles in their way. The most important? Yuuri is only 14 now, hardly a good age for them to announce a relationship between the two of them, even if they keep it age-appropriate. So for the time being, they'll have to try and settle for long-distance.But it's hardly realistic to expect them to be able to react normally after their lives were completely messed up by this whole 'time travel' thing, and really, who can blame them for not being able to convincingly play the age (and maturity level) the rest of the world still expects of them?NOTE: As those of you who read the original version of this story as I was posting it probably noticed, I really rushed through it. After coming up with a whole bunch of things that I wanted to add to it that would've stood out if I added them so late, I decided to try my hand at re-writing the whole thing. I'm going to try not to rush it so much this time. Enjoy!





	1. Back to Square 1: Yūri

Yūri was brought into a state of semi-consciousness when he felt a rough, slobbery tongue start licking his face.

“Makka, no…” he groaned quietly, not even bothering to open his eyes.

A moment later, he froze as realization hit him.

Makkachin had passed away years ago, dying of old age and taking a large part of their hearts with him. Therefore, it wasn’t him that was waking Yūri up.

And it couldn’t be his husband, either.

While Viktor was very open with his affections and wouldn’t hesitate to lick Yūri on the cheek if the thought struck him, his husband was currently in France visiting his foster family, a trip that Yūri himself would have joined in on as well if he hadn’t fallen ill the day before they were meant to fly out.

Yūri knew that the easiest way to find out what exactly had awoken him would be to just open his eyes and _look_ , but he’d never really grown out of the habit of trying to sleep for as long as he could, something Phichit had always privately thought was because he was trying to compensate for all the sleep he’d lost due to his anxiety.

After a moment, however, he realized that he probably wouldn’t be falling back asleep anyway, and he might as well find out what was getting its slobber all over his face.

Once upon a time he would have reacted to this strange situation much more quickly, but decades with Viktor Nikiforov as his husband had somewhat desensitized him to weird and confusing situations.

Slowly, Yūri sat up, eyes still closed as he felt something hop off his chest (he hadn’t even realized the pressure was there until it left) and onto the bed beside him.

So some sort of animal _had_ gotten in, then. At least that was better than some random person breaking into their house and covering his cheek in saliva. Still, he could have sworn he’d locked the doors last night, and the windows had all been closed to ward off the chilly winter air…

Resigned to his fate of trying to finagle the animal back outside where it belonged, Yūri finally opened his eyes… only to shut them immediately when he realized what was in front of him.

Vicchan.

As in the toy poodle that had been run over by a car shortly before his first Grand Prix Final, not his husband of the same name he’d met right after that same competition.

“Oh my god, I’m dead.” Yūri murmured to himself, trying not to panic as he tried to remember the last thing he’d done before waking up. Unsurprisingly, the answer was that he’d gone to bed.

True, he’d always hoped that he’d die peacefully in his sleep, but he wasn’t even fifty yet! Sure, death came for everyone regardless of age, but he was as healthy as could be expected from a retired Olympic champion who still exercised regularly, if not as vigorously! Had they missed something during his most recent health screening…?

He didn’t consciously realize that he was working himself into a panic attack until he heard Vicchan let out a soft whimper, nudging at his hand (which was now holding his hair in a vice grip as he tried to come to terms with the unexpected reunion with said dog).

There had been days where all Yūri wanted to do was pet his adorable puppy again, so really, he couldn’t help but gently scratch behind the puppy’s ears, despite the circumstances. He focused on the soft fur, and gradually his breathing calmed down.

“Okay…” he breathed out slowly, doing his best not to look at his surroundings quite yet, instead staring into the poodle’s dark brown eyes. “Somehow, I doubt I’d still be getting panic attacks in the afterlife, so I’m probably not dead, right?”

Vicchan yipped in what Yūri decided to take as agreement, and he finally deigned to look around.

“My old bedroom?” Yūri said, more than a little surprised.

He hadn’t lived at the onsen since before he and Viktor had gotten married all those years ago, and even after that when they’d stayed over for whatever reason, they’d been put in a different room.

Still, it looked different than it had been just before he’d moved out, too.

There were a few pictures of Viktor on his walls, but not nearly enough to make up his entire collection (which he’d never put back up on display after removing them when Viktor came to coach him). In fact, these were probably the first ones he’d ever gotten.

The one on the wall to his right, just beside his bed, was the one Yūko had given him when he announced his intention to become a professional skater, and the poster above his dresser had been given to him by Minako-sensei on his thirteenth birthday, depicting Viktor in his Free Skate outfit for the Junior World Championships, the very same performance that had changed the course of Yūri’s life all those years ago.

Or, he mused as he glanced down at his body numbly, trying not to panic further as he noticed that he was even more petite than usual, had it really been years ago?

He didn’t have the imagination to dream up what his life had turned out like, so it had to have been real, right? But then, why was he apparently younger, and why was Vicchan still alive?

Most importantly, what did this mean for him and Viktor?

Yūri hadn’t died, he was mostly sure. So it hadn’t been some tragic accident that had thrown him into the past. What if his husband didn’t remember him? What if he _did_?

He had to find out.

But how?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3


	2. Back to Square 1: Viktor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> Thanks for not trying to kill me through your screens for deciding to re-write this. I know it's probably at least a little tempting, everything considered. Oh, and to those of you who were wondering about it: don't worry, I have no intention of removing the original version of the story.
> 
> Oh, and I honestly am intending at taking this at least a little more slowly than the first time around, so don't let this fast update fool you too much. I was writing them together because it's practically the same thing from different perspectives.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

A few thousand kilometers away, Viktor Nikiforov found himself in a similar situation when he suddenly ‘woke up’ in the middle of a conversation with his adorable niece and nephews, only to find himself in the apartment he’d lived in back when he was eighteen, freshly kicked out of his home in France by his foster father.

Sterile and boring, a long-lasting mark of having lived with a cold and neglectful man. He dearly missed the days before his foster mother disappeared. She had brought life to the too large mansion, and that light had disappeared with her…

Shaking off the depressing thoughts about how his former foster father had resented him so much, he glanced into the mirror on his wall, which he would later regret, as doing so nearly sent him into catatonic shock right then and there.

After all, the last thing he had expected was to see a long-haired teenager (either eighteen or nineteen, he numbly presumed, recalling where he’d woken up) looking back at him.

His first thought, once he’d managed to drag his eyes away from his far too young appearance, was to immediately look down at the ring finger on his right hand.

Nothing.

That was when the panic and despair truly started setting in.

He’d always been a bit of a dreamer, but even he couldn’t possibly have imagined someone as awe-inspiring and as close to perfect as humanly possible as his Yūri.

He…couldn’t possibly have just dreamt all of that…right?

His chest felt tight, and his oxygen-deprived mind wondered belatedly if this was what Yūri felt like when he had a panic attack.

Viktor had always deeply respected the other man for being able to live his life while plagued with anxiety, and if this was anything like what his husband experienced, he felt very validated in that respect indeed.

He slumped against the full-length mirror to lean against the wall as his stared at his bare hand. It wasn’t until he felt an unfamiliar pressure on his other hand that he looked up, only to see Makkachin gently biting his hand. Not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to get his attention.

He stared at the poodle that he hadn’t seen in years, jaw dropping and tears coming to his eyes at the wondrous sight. His dear Makka, still alive…

That realization helped to break him out of his panic slightly, as he quietly reassured his beloved poodle that he was okay (he wasn’t sure if that was a lie), a waterfall of tears now streaming down his face as he buried his face in the dog’s curly fur.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, holding on to his dog like his life and sanity depended on it, but eventually he brought his face up, only for Makkachin to lick his tears away, earning a rough laugh.

“Oh Makkachin…” he sniffed, leaning forward to rub his nose against the poodle’s. “I’ve missed you so much…I don’t know if this is a dream, or if I’ve gone insane…I thought I wouldn’t see you again until it was my own time to pass on, if I was lucky.”

Makkachin whined slightly, looking a little confused at the nonsense his human was spouting.

“But this can’t be heaven, or else I’d still have my ring.” Viktor concluded. There was also the fact that if he had died mid-conversation, it probably wouldn’t have been peacefully, and he didn’t want to think of the possibility of whatever caused him to show back up here hurting his brother and his family.

“Heaven wouldn’t be paradise without Yūri, either, but then again I’d hope he outlives me.” Viktor said, trying to shake off those disturbing thoughts. "Which means either I’ve lost my sanity—in which case Yurio will never let anyone forget that he called it years ago, I’m in a coma, but this is unlike any stories from comatose patients who woke up that I’ve ever heard of, or…I went back in time, somehow.”

He was rambling more than usual, but considering the situation, who could blame him?

Makkachin shook his head, deciding not to bother trying to decode his master’s words, and instead butted his head against the human’s chin in an attempt to console him.

“So, first order of business…” Viktor sighed, still holding his poodle in a hug and thanking any god that may or may not exist that Makkachin had never minded his clinginess. “Make sure Yūri is okay, and figure out how to ask him if he remembers without looking like a crazy person if he doesn’t.”

Everything else could wait until after he’d had that _extremely_ important question answered.

He loved the rest of his family, and would absolutely be checking up on them afterwards, but Yūri was his soulmate for a reason. He honestly didn’t know if he could live without the other man.

It would completely, utterly destroy him if Yūri didn’t remember their life and love together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3


	3. We're Stronger Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :)

Yūri hadn’t moved in hours as he tried to process all of the implications of waking up in what his phone declared to be his fourteen-year-old body.

Early 2006.

Shit, some of the people he cared about most hadn’t even been _born_ yet.

First order of business had been to send a private message to Viktor’s public Facebook account, and then he could deal with everything else.

He felt like he needed an answer before he could deal with anything (or anyone) else, and luckily his parents had bought his excuse that he wasn’t feeling well, and had complied with his request that no one come into the room for the time being. Even Mari, who though bewildered, had obligingly set his food outside the door, which he’d gotten up to grab only because of his ingrained awareness that he needed the nutrients to keep him in shape to skate.

~

Meanwhile, Viktor himself was also struggling to try and figure out a way to contact his beloved.

Yūri had once told him that he hadn’t had a Facebook account until meeting Phichit and being strong-armed into creating one. Still, that didn’t stop him from opening his own (though, irritatingly enough, he’d had to reset his long-forgotten password) and trying to look the younger skater up.

Nothing.

He opened a new tab, ready to try googling Yūri on the off-chance he could find any contact information, since sending a letter to the onsen itself seemed like a bad idea.

Myspace?

Nope.

Twitter?

Hadn’t launched yet.

For that matter, neither had most of the other social media platforms Viktor had become familiar with over the years.

Now that he thought about it, now he’d be able to mentally prepare himself for the fall of Vine.

It would probably be a better idea never to get hooked on it again in the first place, but Viktor’s self-discipline did not extend to social media, something that hadn’t helped with Yakov’s rapid balding.

As the name ran through Viktor’s mind, he froze.

Yakov…he would still be alive at this point.

He tried not to hyperventilate at the realization that he would soon be seeing his mentor again. The man who had helped Viktor adjust to moving back to Russia with Yakov after his foster father so coldly kicked him out of the only home he’d ever known. The man who had put up with his shit for decades, even after Viktor had retired and moved to Japan to be with Yūri.

The first time around, Viktor hadn’t realized quite how important Yakov was to him, how much he cared about the man who had basically become his second (and more permanent) father-figure, until the man had passed away.

Hopefully this time Viktor would have the opportunity to show the man how much he appreciated all he had done for him. His first thought was to perhaps try and tone down what Yurio had referred to as his ‘Extra™’ attitude, but honestly, that would probably just make the old man paranoid.

Well, he’d figure it out.

He was about to go to his e-mail, on the off-chance that the e-mail address Yūri had used when they met was already set up, when he noticed that he’d gotten a Facebook notification from the still-open tab.

Hands shaking as he clicked on it and opened the message from _Katsuki Y_ _ū_ _ri,_ he saw a single word that simultaneously knocked the breath out of him and nearly made him descend into euphoria.

The word?

Katsudon.

Vague enough that if Viktor didn’t remember their lives together, he would dismiss as extremely random.

Hands moving on their own, he unconsciously typed out his current phone number, and clicked ‘send.’

Not ten seconds later, his phone rang, and tears once again began streaming down his face as he accepted the call.

“Yūri…” he murmured, voice rough from all the crying he’d done that day.

~

“Vitya.” Yūri gave a choked laugh as he heard his husband’s voice. “Oh, I was about ready to have a heart attack.”

Viktor whimpered, and Yūri heard the other man (though he supposed Viktor would also technically be a teenager right now) sniffle slightly. “Yūri, please…the fear that you wouldn’t remember was bad enough; I couldn’t handle it if you were…”

“Sorry.” Yūri winced. “I didn’t mean that literally.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Viktor sighed quietly. “It’s just…right before I saw your message, I had realized that…”

“Yakov is still alive.” Yūri breathed out, eyes widening in shock. “Are…do you think you’ll be okay, seeing him again?”

“Well, I’ve already gotten some practice with Makka…” Viktor forced out a laugh, and seemed to pause as something occurred to him. “Oh…I’d almost forgotten. Are _you_ okay? Seeing Vicchan again?”

“I may have had a bit of a panic attack when I saw him.” Yūri admitted. That was something that once upon a time he’d have felt self-conscious about admitting, but not only did he trust Viktor explicitly, but if there was ever a time to panic, the situation they had found themselves in would be it.

His husband confirmed that thought with his next words.

“I did too, actually.” Viktor said, and Yūri could tell he was frowning as he said it. “Though that was actually before I saw Makka.”

“Can you give him a kiss for me?” Yūri requested, and smiled as he heard Viktor immediately do so.

“I hope you do the same to Vicchan for me.” Viktor teased. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

Yūri smiled, leaning over to pick said dog up and bringing the toy poodle to his chest, quietly giving him a much less dramatic forehead kiss than the loud one Viktor had bestowed on Makkachin.

They were quiet for a while, the kind of contented silence that came with being with someone for so long.

“So…what are we going to do?” Yūri eventually had to ask.

Viktor sighed quietly. “I…I don’t know. What I _want_ to do is pack of my bags and move to Hasetsu. But the Olympics are coming up in a couple of weeks, and Yakov—both the living and ghostly version—would find a way to strangle me.”

“Yeah…” Yūri agreed with an equally resigned sigh as he hugged Vicchan closer to his chest. “Then there’s the fact that everyone around us would consider me to be a minor, so we can hardly get married and start living together right now.”

A high-pitched whine came through the phone, and Yūri would have wondered if Makkachin had been the one to make the noise if it hadn’t been for the perfect timing.

“Sometimes I really hate it when you’re right.” Viktor muttered petulantly.

“Sometimes I do, too.” Yūri agreed wryly, deciding not to comment on his husband’s dramatics. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had plenty of time to get used to it over the years. “In all seriousness, though…I don’t want you to get in trouble for being with me.”

“I wasn’t intending to do anything inappropriate before you’re older again!” Viktor protested, shuddering in disgust at the thought of doing anything sexual with a fourteen-year-old, regardless of whether they mere mentally much older.

There were some boundaries he **would not** cross, and this was one of them.

Luckily, Yūri was perfectly aware of what he was thinking. After all, he was physically younger than _Yurio_ had been when Yūri met him, and considering they both thought of their Yurio as a son…needless to say, Viktor’s shudder didn’t offend him in the slightest.

“So nothing until I’m sixteen again, then?” Yūri smiled a bit, trying to redirect both of their thoughts a bit. He was well aware that that was the age of consent in Russia, considering the shit storm that Otabek and Yurio’s relationship had caused even _before_ it took a turn for the romantic.

“Eighteen.” Viktor didn’t hesitate in correcting him. “At that point, it’ll be legal almost anywhere we happen to be. That, and I’ll be able to look your parents in the eye when I ask them for their consent to marry you, as I won’t have the guilt of having defiled their underage son weighing down on me.”

Yūri snorted at his husband’s phrasing. “A few decades too late for that, Vitya.”

“Well, obviously, but you were hardly underage when our relationship started.” Viktor laughed a little.

“Anyway, why are you so sure you’ll be the one asking for my hand?” Yūri continued, a tiny smirk pulling at his lips. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m fairly sure that _I’m_ the one who—“

“I technically brought up marriage first!” Viktor interrupted him quickly, sounding a little flustered at the reminder.

He’d had his proposal all planned out, and had only needed to get the ring, but then Yūri not only bought their engagement rings right in front of him, but took advantage of their surroundings to make his proposal more perfect than anything Viktor had managed to think up.

Yet for some reason, no one had ever really believed Viktor when he tried to tell them that he wasn’t the only hopeless romantic in their relationship.

“In response to what I said, which basically _was_ a proposal, if an unintended one.” Yūri hummed.

Japanese proposals tended to be less…grandiose and showy, he supposed, than some countries favored, and his phrasing when he asked Viktor to stay with him could absolutely have been taken as a marriage proposal by anyone who had been listening.

Luckily their words had been quiet, or else a similar scene to the one at the restaurant in Barcelona would have happened before he was ready for it. That had been uncomfortable enough, but if it had happened when Yūri hadn’t even _meant_ for it to be a proposal?

He shuddered at the thought.

“Careful, or you’ll hurt my feelings!” Viktor laughed in amusement, fully aware of where his husband’s mind had likely wandered. “Be careful! We’re not close enough for you to kiss the hurt away…”

Unsurprisingly, the reminder brought Yūri back to the situation at hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3
> 
> Notes:  
> Age of consent in Japan is a touchy subject (most sources agree it's 13 but some say it's higher), but when it comes to marriage, it's 18 with parental consent and 20 otherwise.


	4. Mother's Intuition

Mari frowned in concern as she walked into the dining area, not seeing any sign of her younger brother.

Usually that wouldn’t be anything to be worried about, since Yūri spent the vast majority of his free time either at Ice Castle with Yūko or at Minako’s studio, but his claim that he wasn’t feeling well that morning still lingered in her mind.

“Ah, Mari.” Her mother smiled at her as she moved through the preparations for the dinner rush. “How was your day?”

Mari hadn’t been certain whether or not to attend university, so after graduating from high school she had followed the fairly common trend of taking a gap year before deciding. While in most places that would mean traveling or just taking time to relax before throwing yourself into the world of higher education, in Japan that typically meant taking the year to study for the college entrance exams so they had a higher chance of passing.

Basically, if she did decide she wanted to go, she would hopefully be prepared, and if she didn’t, she’d still have more knowledge under her belt, so either way it was a win-win situation.

“Same as usual.” Mari answered with a shrug, automatically moving to set down her bag and wash her hands so that she could help. “Has Yūri come out yet?”

Hiroko hummed in agreement. “Yes, he came out to help me with the lunch rush. I tried to tell him to go back to rest, since he was acting a bit oddly, but you know how stubborn he is.”

Mari was half expecting her father to randomly interject a comment on how Yūri had gotten that from Hiroko as usual, but this time it didn’t happen.

Noticing that her daughter was looking around the room a little warily, Hiroko smiled, easily able to tell where her eldest child’s mind had wandered. “I sent your father out to get some jam.”

“Jam?” Mari repeated, more than a little bewildered. “What do we need that for?”

“I’m not entirely sure.” Hiroko freely admitted. “Yūri asked me if we had any when I came up to bring him some tea. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but when I asked Minako-senpai if she thought that I should take him to a doctor, she mentioned that jam in tea is a Russian thing. When she lived there everyone was always trying to get her to try it.”

“Yūri has _got_ to get over his thing for Viktor Nikiforov.” Mari huffed, only partly joking. “Deciding on a skating career because of the guy is one thing, but ruining perfectly good tea just because it’s some weird Russian thing?”

Hiroko snorted in amusement before gently chiding her daughter for mocking her brother.

Mari grinned sheepishly, perfectly aware that she was throwing stones from her own glass house, as the western saying went. It wasn’t like she herself had never done or tried silly things in response to her own crushes, so really, she had no room to talk.

Besides, Vicchan’s namesake lived thousands of kilometers away.

If his unwitting influence on Yūri was to give him a goal to work towards and encouraging him to try new things, then what was there to complain about?

If only she knew.

~

“Come on, Takeshi-kun!” Yūko groaned as she tried to convince her friend to tag along as she brought their friend the day’s homework, since he’d missed classes.

“Why would you bother going to pick up his assignments anyway?” Takeshi scowled bitterly. “He’s two years younger than you!”

If Yūko was a bit more observant, she might have noticed that he hadn’t included himself in the age comparison and might have wondered why he focused specifically on the age difference between her and Yūri.

Alas, she hadn’t yet developed a mother’s sense of awareness.

“Just a few minutes, and then we can go to Ice Castle and practice.” Yūko pleaded with a pout.

Takeshi glanced away from his friend’s admittedly adorable expression, contemplating his options.

If he could suffer a few minutes of their junior’s presence, then he would have the chance to spend some time along with Yūko, and he could even rub it in Katsuki’s face.

“Fine.” He sighed, now slightly less reluctant as his friend squealed and grabbed his arm, pulling him in the direction of Yutopia Akatsuki.

The reminder that he wasn’t the only one of Yūko friends whose family owned a business rankled somewhat, but he was slightly mollified due to the fact that as such a huge ice-skating fan, she would always prefer to hang out at Ice Castle than the onsen. After all, even when talking about visiting Katsuki, she had said they’d go to the rink afterwards.

‘Just watch, Katsuki.’ Takeshi thought a bit smugly. ‘I’ll be the one to win Yūko-chan’s heart.’

If only he knew.

~

“Ah, Yuko-chan!” Hiroko beamed at the young girl she had once thought might become her daughter-in-law one day.

That vague hope had come to an end since her son’s infatuation with the Russian skater had started, but the mere fact that the older teen was not only Yūri’s first friend, but had also been the one to introduce him to the existence of said skater proved that love interest or not, she’d made an impact on his life.

Standing next to her and looking unsure of himself was the girl’s other best friend, the Nishigori boy that Hiroko knew had a tendency to tease her son.

If she hadn’t seen him look after Yūko-chan with such care, she would be more wary of his association with her son, but as it was she only hoped that this love triangle mess resolved itself soon that that the two boys could form a genuine friendship.

Getting her son to realize and acknowledge his emotions outside of the realm of dance and skating was like pulling teeth, however, so she figured she should let him come to terms with his crush on Viktor himself.

If only she knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3


	5. Brothers Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor's backstory explained. Partly.

Viktor’s hands trembled slightly as he lightly gripped his cell phone, trying to gather his courage to make a very important call.

Not that he thought that his selfless little brother would turn him away, but sometimes doubts took root so thoroughly that they were even more difficult to overcome.

When he and Adrien had reunited the first time around, it had been because Viktor couldn’t imagine getting married without his brother standing at his side.

By that point, Adrien had become an adult with a steady girlfriend of his own, who had later become his wife and mother to his children, though Adrien had decided to take on his wife’s surname as opposed to continue the Agreste legacy, a decision that Viktor had been almost ashamedly pleased about even if he was kept in the dark as to the reason for it.

They hadn’t spoken since Viktor had been all but thrown out of the Agreste family, not because they chose not to keep in contact, but because Gabriel had threatened to slap Viktor with a restraining order if he didn’t stop trying to contact his brother.

Adrien had known, at first, that Viktor hadn’t left of his own free will, and that despite his father’s actions the Russian teen still saw him as family, until Viktor had done something that unwittingly convinced him that he had been left behind for real.

First by his mother, whose disappearance had happened mere weeks before Viktor was kicked out, and then his brother. It hadn’t helped his insecurity in regard to whether or not he deserved love, which had nearly destroyed Viktor when he’d found out about it years later. Thank god Marinette had eventually come along and helped show him otherwise.

The unwitting act in question?

Cutting his hair.

Viktor had misdirected people for years about the reasons that he had decided to chop off his long locks in his late teens, and many had taken it as an act that had merely been meant to surprise them all, a goal that Viktor had often expressed as being very important to him.

In reality, he had done it when he finally broke free from Gabriel Agreste’s control, and had wanted a bit of physical weight to be lifted to go along with the metaphorical.

Even after Monsieur Agreste had kicked him out and Viktor had already been making decent money as a competitive figure skater (he was off to the Olympics shortly, after all), figure skating was still expensive, and people who were trying to hire him to model their products for them had run into an unexpected roadblock.

Namely that Gabriel Agreste, Paris’ (current) top of the fashion industry, had a contract with Viktor’s name on it that forbid any sort of modeling job in the next five years that had not been set up by Gabriel himself. A contract that Gabriel, as Viktor’s legal guardian at the time, had signed in his stead mere days before throwing him out.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, the bastard had rubbed salt in the wound by refusing to release him from it, and the contract had only been dissolved months later after Viktor had hired a legal team, which had further stretched his finances until the case was won.

In any case, that had been what the hair thing was about.

After he’d gotten his first modeling paycheck _not_ associated with the Agreste name in any way, shape, or form, Viktor had decided that it was time for a change—something more obvious to show his former father (if he was even paying any attention at that point) that Viktor was emerging from the situation as his own man.

Viktor had seen it as a way to sever his bond with Gabriel Agreste, but when Adrien had found out about the dramatic haircut (and he knew Viktor better than almost anyone, so he _knew_ there was a reason behind it), the younger teenager had taken it to mean that he’d cut off ties with the Agreste family as a whole, not just the patriarch.

In other words, by the time the two brothers had reunited in the first timeline, Adrien had been under the impression that Viktor no longer gave a damn about him. To suddenly receive an invitation to Viktor’s wedding had come as a shock, much less the request for him to accept a position at his brother’s side on such an important day.

It had been very emotional for the both of them once Viktor had realized why Adrien had never contacted him, needless to say, but they had come out of it stronger than ever.

Viktor broke himself out of his disjointed thoughts with a hoarse laugh, incredibly glad that despite the fact that he and Yūri still had no idea why they had gone back in time, it had been to a time before he had given himself that haircut. He’d initially done it only a few weeks after his first Olympics, after all.

He’d gotten used to his shorter hair style, but if it spared Adrien even the slightest bit of hurt, he would be more than willing to keep it long.

Yūri probably wouldn’t mind either, Viktor mused as he thought back to the many posters his husband used to have in his room, many of which had been of him with his longer hair. Not that Yūri had ever complained about the shorter length, but why not mix things up a bit?

Regardless, he should probably place the call so that Adrien didn’t have to go any longer without news, suffering Gabriel’s cruel insinuations that Viktor had been the one to abandon them (specifically Adrien) instead of being honest about why Viktor had really gone back to Russia.

Gabriel had been decent enough before his wife disappeared, tolerant if not warm and welcoming, but without the Agreste matriarch the man had become colder and even more neglectful.

Honestly, if Viktor thought for a second that it would work, he would try and take over as Adrien’s legal guardian, would have tried the first time around too, but Gabriel was too influential. It didn’t help that he was on a first name basis with Paris’ mayor, however irritating the man and his daughter were.

Then again, he consoled himself, if Adrien had come to live with him, he would never have had the chance to fall in love with Marinette, and Viktor couldn’t imagine those two lovebugs (the term of endearment seemed to be an inside joke between them) without each other.

“Hello?” a voice came, slightly muffled.

Viktor looked around, slightly bewildered at seeing no one in the room, until he looked down to see that he’d finally pressed the button without even realizing it.

“Hello?” the voice repeated.

“Adrik.” Viktor rushed to say before his brother disconnected on him, switching to French from the Russian diminutive without thought. “It’s nice to hear your voice again, little brother.”

There was a distant crash on the other side, and Viktor tried not to smile at the realization that Adrien had knocked something over, or at least bumped into something.

Despite how Adrien had always teased his wife for being ‘madly clumsy’ (another inside joke, apparently), he wasn’t always the most graceful of people, either.

“Viktor?” the younger teen’s voice breathed out quietly, and Viktor’s heart clenched painfully at the loneliness and _hope_ he heard in it.

“In the flesh!” Viktor said cheerfully, wanting to eradicate that loneliness. “Well, not _in the flesh_ , really, but—“

And they were off, strengthening their bond that hadn’t even had the chance to break this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3
> 
> (After having gotten some reviews...)
> 
> *giggle* 
> 
> Guys, the fact that I was bringing Miraculous Ladybug into this version has been in the tags the entire time.


	6. I'm Going to Regret This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> So, to answer a few questions from last chapter…
> 
> Yes, we will definitely be seeing Adrien (and a few other ML characters) again. 
> 
> Adrien is 5 years younger than Viktor, putting him at 13 years old to Viktor’s current 18 and making him one year younger than Yūri, at least physically. 
> 
> I’m not planning on having them see each other in person for another couple of years considering how insanely busy they are and how strict Gabriel Agreste is concerning Adrien, but by that point Adrien will be 15, caught up to where Miraculous Ladybug is (at least according to the ML wiki).
> 
> Also, can I just say that I’m really amused at how surprised a lot of you were about that last chapter? The tag really has been there the entire time, and I haven’t really hidden it even within the last couple of chapters or my responses to your guys’ comments (as some of you had already guessed that’s where I was heading). I was torn between whether to make Viktor Adrien or Marinette’s foster brother. In the end, given Viktor’s melancholy when it comes to his life before Yūri, I figured the Agreste family made more sense.
> 
> Also, anyone know of any Russian diminutives that would be good for the name Marinette?
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> ~ Raven

Yakov’s eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment as he watched Viktor run through the routine they’d been practicing since before the last season had even ended.

Had Viktor… _forgotten_ his own routine?

It seemed impossible, considering the boy’s passion and single-minded focus when it came to skating, but what other explanation could there be for the odd hesitation, or the moments where the teenager’s blue eyes reflected a bit of confusion when he had to transition to another move, as if he didn’t quite recall what was meant to be next?

Viktor had always been a bit of an airhead, and tended to forget things all the time if he wasn’t reminded of them (Yakov had been wary when he’d heard the boy owned a dog, but luckily Viktor’s adoration for the poodle overcame his goldfish-like memory), but when it came to skating his mind was usually like a steel trap.

“Vitya!” he barked the seldom-used nickname in the hopes that, despite his harsh demeanor, it would encourage the boy to open up a little. “What is wrong with you?”

The silverette glanced up at him, an almost _amused_ and definitely fond light replacing the look that Yakov had seen in his eyes.

“Blunt as always, coach.” He heard the teen murmur quietly enough that he supposed he hadn’t been meant to hear it. If not for the hyperawareness he’d gained from dealing with such exasperating students, he probably wouldn’t have.

“Subtly has never been my strong suit.” Yakov admitted gruffly, unashamed as he glowered at the brat. “Nor is it yours. Something is bothering you. Is this about the Olympics? You are young, and if you don’t think you can handle the pressure—“

“No, no, nothing like that!” Viktor gave a genuine laugh, as if the very idea of being worried about skating in the most important sporting competition the world had ever seen was ridiculous.

Honestly, the arrogance of this boy.

Opening his mouth—either to scold him for not taking it seriously or to further investigate what was going on, he wasn’t sure, he was cut off by Viktor continuing.

“It’s just that I’ve had a change of perspective, that’s all.” Viktor sighed. “These routines no longer fit, thus my difficulty doing so convincingly. I promise that I am trying, Yakov.”

Looking into the boy’s eyes, Yakov found himself believing his words.

“Your presentation score will suffer from it, whatever happened.” Yakov sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he decided not to pry about the events that had changed the boy, knowing that it probably had something to do with his bastard of a former foster father. “The technical elements are up to your usual standard, but jumps are not the only thing the judges will be looking at.”

“I know.” Viktor cringed. “If it weren’t for the fact that the Olympics are coming up, I would probably just change the routine, but…”

Even Viktor wasn’t quite that impulsive, Yakov thought with barely a twitch at the outrageous idea of doing that at the very end of the season, much less so soon before a _very important_ competition, as Viktor had mentioned.

However…if the thought had even so much has crossed his mind, that likely meant that Viktor had already had an idea he could use, even if his common sense (Yakov was pleased to learn that that was something that Viktor even _possessed,_ underdeveloped though it was) had caused him to dismiss it.

If that was the case, it would hardly do any harm to at least have Viktor skate said theoretical programs, just to see if there was anything they could use, right?

“Go on, then.” He grumbled, crossing his arm pointedly.

Viktor just blinked at him for a moment before going to replay the music for the routine he’d been practicing.

Realizing that the brat hadn’t understood the order (did he have to explain _everything_?), he snapped out. “Not that one, boy! Show me what else you’ve been working on!”

Viktor’s eyes widened in utter shock, before he beamed brightly at him, immediately moving to a different track.

Yakov huffed at the look on the boy’s face, recalling how many fans the boy had made swoon with just a flip of his hair and wondering how much worse it would be if he’d smiled genuinely at them like that.

Well, if nothing else, they could’ve done worse than to have Viktor be the face of Russian figure skating.

So he watched, as Viktor smoothly worked through a routine that came off as much more graceful than the one he’d been skating all season, which didn’t even make _sense_ , but then nothing ever did when it came to Viktor.

There were a few flaws here and there in the technical elements, transitions that could be made a little more smoothly, an arm that should be positioned differently—but all in all, nothing that couldn’t be fixed. There was more passion in this routine than the original one, too, which would only improve the boy’s presentation components score.

He grimaced as he realized that he was about to do. He’d finally been driven mad, hadn’t he?

“Make sure to get a costume and sort out the legalities to use that music.” Yakov sighed, closing his eyes as he tried not to feel horrified at his own words. “Take a break, and then show me your idea for the short program.”

Viktor gaped at him for a long moment, long enough for Yakov to consider flicking water at him to break him out of his surprise, before beaming even more brightly before, though Yakov quite clearly recognized the shock in the boy’s eyes.

Admittedly, not something he could blame him for.

He sighed as Viktor, now out of sight as he went to drink some water, bumped into a locker as if he still hadn’t grown accustomed to his long limbs, even though he hadn’t had a recent growth spurt.

Airhead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3


	7. Exploration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Sorry, it's been really busy at work, and I've not only been taking overtime (I'll be working every day except Wednesday from last Thursday to this Saturday night, why did I do this to myself???) but have also been distracted helping my younger sister with back-to-school stuff. Ugh.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! :)

Yūri hummed quietly to himself as he sorted out the items his parents had stored in the banquet hall that, at least in another world, would later have become a shared bedroom for him and Viktor once the latter had talked him out of moving out of his tiny childhood bedroom.

Granted, they didn’t spend much time there despite their near daily visits to the onsen, considering they didn’t want Yūri’s family (or, indeed, the guests) to hear their more intimate moments, but they had made some fond memories in here regardless.

Like slow-dancing with classic romantic Disney songs in the background, like Once Upon a Dream and Tale as Old as Time, switching roles seamlessly as they were wont to do ever since choreographing the duet of Stammi Vicino.

Mari had laughed at their cheesiness for years, having peaked in at them through the slightly open door, but even with his characteristic self-consciousness Yūri hadn’t been all that embarrassed at being caught.

Putting aside those cherished memories for the time being (though it was something he fully intended to recreate at some point once he was reunited with Viktor), Yūri blinked down at the old camcorder he had found, turning it over gently in his hands as he wiped off the thin layer of dust.

Well, it wasn’t _actually_ that old, only released a couple of years prior, but to Yūri it was practically ancient.

The days where he had the world at his fingertips were long gone, or rather years away.

God, it had taken a while getting used to all of these old versions of the programs he’d previously used so instinctually. Maybe he should take a computer class to get reacquainted with the current technology?

His computer even still had Internet Explorer.

Yikes.

Anyway, back to the camcorder.

Viktor would probably expect him to get back up to standard as soon as possible, and without a coach readily available to watch over him and point out the problems in his skating, would be difficult. But he’d helped coach students for years at Viktor’s side, and could surely spot his mistakes if he recorded himself skating, right?

He’d have to ask his mom if she minded him using it, since apparently no one else was.

~

Minako hummed cheerfully as she walked into her dance studio, intending to warm up for a while before her first class of the day arrived.

She wasn’t surprised to see that the light was already on, since she’d given Yūri a key the year before so he could dance whenever he needed to get out of his head, but the sight she came upon was unexpected.

Yūri dancing ballet: normal.

Yūri _breakdancing???_

Not so much.

“Yūri!” Minako gasped, and Yūri faltered slightly, surprise causing him to unbalance.

“Minako!” the boy greeted in surprise from where he’d just fallen, unbothered. Then he smiled. “Sorry, I lost track of time.”

“It’s fine.” Minako blinked, even more stunned at the familiarity.

Not that she minded in the slightest, having known him since he was still in his mother’s womb, but all of Minako’s previous attempts to get the kid to drop the honorific had failed, so this was a pleasant surprise.

 “Since when…” she trailed off, not sure how to ask.

Yūri blinked up at her, as if not understanding what she was obviously trying to ask, before his eyes widened in realization.

“Oh, the dancing?” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “I figured learning more styles of dance could only help with my skating, so I decided to expand my horizons. I’m a bit out of practice with breakdancing, though, so I’m reacquainting myself with it.”

Minako was silent for a moment as she tried to equate the more confident yet still soft-spoken Yūri in front of her with the boy she’d seen just last week who stuttered even around her.

He must have taken her silence the wrong way, though, because before she knew it he was on his knees, bowing in apology as he babbled about how he hadn’t meant to disparage her teachings in ballet or imply that it was inferior.

After a long moment of staring at the kid, she snorted in amusement, shaking off her previous musings.

More self-assured or not, Yūri was still Yūri.

“What’s with the camera?” she gestured to the camcorder she’d bought for Hiroko for her birthday a few years prior, ironically so that her friend would have video of her son’s dance recitals. It seemed so fitting that said son was now using it to record himself dancing.

“Eh?” Yūri glanced over to where she was pointing. “Oh, that. I figured it’d be easier to see what moves I might be able to incorporate if I can see what I look like as I do them.”

He gestured at the wall behind him which, as was typical in a ballet studio, was covered in mirrors. “Kind of hard to focus watching how I look when I’m spinning upside down, so…”

Minako snorted, murmuring wryly. “Yes, I’d imagine so. Anyway, what was with that fall? I couldn’t have possibly surprised you so much! How do you expect to compete internationally if—“

Then she was off, critiquing what little of Yūri’s dancing she had seen and making a mental note to look up breakdancing later on so she’d have a better idea of where he needed to improve.

Hey, she might be proud former prima ballerina, but she would hardly put up a protest if her student was so determined to branch out.

~

Takeshi gaped as he watched Katsuki glide across the ice.

He didn’t know how it had happened, but Katsuki seemed to have gone from amateur to practically competition-ready in the blink of an eye.

He had only started skating seriously a couple of years ago, when Yūko-chan made them watch the World Championships with her and Katsuki’s obsession with Viktor started, but that shouldn’t have been long enough to get this good.

Yet here he was, practically _flying_ on the ice as he swiftly turned and spun with an ethereal sort of presence that easily equaled Nikiforov’s.

Takeshi had always been pessimistic about the younger boy’s chances of actually making a career out of figure skating, much less succeeding internationally.

Now, however…

He was brought out of his musings as Katsuki changed the music after he’d finished his rendition of the Russian’s last routine and began another one that Takeshi didn’t recognize.

For some reason he did remind Takeshi of a baby gazelle taking his first steps when he’d first gotten on the ice, though. He moved shakily, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to move in his own body, but after a while everything seemed to click and that odd hesitation gave way to grace as he swiftly flowed into a step sequence more intricate than any Takeshi had ever seen.

Almost as odd as Katsuki’s sudden gigantic leap in skill was the fact that Takeshi hadn’t seen any of the current routine he was skating before.

Considering Yūko-chan and Katsuki always skated together to Viktor’s programs and little else (only sometimes throwing in another skater’s routine, and even then Katsuki always seemed reluctant to stray from Nikiforov’s example) and Takeshi had been forced to watch competitions with them and could identify all of the same routines the pair could…it was unlikely that Katsuki was simply skating a routine that another skater had created.

Which meant that he was probably skating an original routine, which—what?

Takeshi just continued staring at Katsuki, who didn’t seem to notice his presence as he got off the ice to watch the video he’d just made (Takeshi hadn’t even realized he’d been recording himself) and, bringing out a notepad displaying the technical elements and presentation components of the routine he’d just done, started adjusting the routine.

The older teen hardly knew what to think as his theory was all but proven.

Katsuki had always been so uncomfortable changing other people’s routines for his own use, only ever downgrading the jumps if he absolutely had to, so for him to unflinchingly rework this routine to the extent that he seemed to be doing…

He’d gained the confidence to create his own program.

Suddenly, Takeshi was overcome by a strange feeling of certainty, one that told him that Katsuki would challenge everything people thought they knew about figure skating.

Fuck.

With someone like Katsuki also crushing on Yūko, how could someone like Takeshi stand a chance?

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3
> 
> Olympics are coming up...


	8. Skype Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> Thought I might as well write another chapter, since I'm still going to be busy at work for the next week or so.
> 
> Also: Grrr. Stupid keyboard got stuck when I typed out the chapter title when I first posted this chapter, so sorry for the weirdness to those of you who are subscribed and were wondering why it originally said 'Sky Call.' Honestly. *shakes head*
> 
> Enjoy! <3

In short order, Viktor and Yūri found themselves utilizing Skype more than their mobile phones, since their long conversations had been racking up quite a bill and even though Yūri knew that Viktor could afford it, he still cringed at the amount that Viktor had insisted on paying.

Skype-to-Skype calls, on the other hand, were free, with the added bonus of being able to see each other.

“But Yūri!” Viktor pouted after Yūri refused to let him watch the videos he’d been recording of himself skating and dancing. Yūri smirked in response. “How am I meant to coach you if you won’t send me those videos?”

“Hm…” Yūri hummed in thought as he tapped a finger to his chin, gently mocking Viktor for his habit of doing the same. “Well, you need to focus on the Olympics right now, so sending you distractions would be a little counterproductive, don’t you think?”

“No.” Viktor huffed petulantly, sticking his tongue out at his husband. “The Olympics are going to be so _boring_ without you there, Yūri!”

“I’m sure you’ll survive.” Yūri rolled his eyes. “If I remember correctly, they were pretty eventful the last time around. The opening ceremonies were so interesting to watch they even managed to distract me from trying to find you in the crowd. Well, for a while, at least.”

Back when their relationship was new Yūri would’ve been far too embarrassed to say something like that, but over the years he’d come to realize that Viktor was just a focused (or, as others would call it, obsessed) on him.

The whole Chihoko Incident came to mind, actually. Yūri was intent on monopolizing Viktor’s attention while his then fiancé had been talking to Chris, which was embarrassing now that he looked back on it, but that was overshadowed by Viktor’s display of public nudity caused by misunderstanding drunk!Yūri and thinking he was being compared to a nonexistent past lover.

In other words, they were both gigantic possessive dorks, but that did nothing to lessen how much they loved each other.

It was nice having someone who you knew would always love you unconditionally, and their days of not communicating very well and trying to hide their feelings so as to not overstep were long gone.

“Yūri, for shame!” Viktor gasped, once again drawing Yūri’s attention. “What happened to ‘don’t take your eyes off me?’”

“Context, Vitya.” Yūri giggled, Viktor’s heart clenching in response to the heavenly sound. “I didn’t even know you then.”

“Well, you know me now.” Viktor grinned. “Biblically.”

“Viktor!” Yūri’s eyes widened and he flushed a dark red, eyes darting around nervously to check if anyone was around to hear Viktor’s words, as unlikely as it was that they’d be able to understand the couple’s strange yet seamless mix of Japanese, Russian, and English.

“Fine, fine.” Viktor answered his love’s unspoken request to keep things PG. They had zero intention of doing anything like _that_ until Yūri was of once again of age, but they did have to be careful in case of other people overhearing them.

“Anyway, I’ll be sure not to take my eyes off you when you’re on-screen.” Yūri relaxed again with a smile. “Not during your programs and interviews, anyway. Maybe during the opening or closing ceremonies, if there’s a bowl of katsudon in front of me.”

Viktor pouted at his husband’s teasing. “You’re so cruel, love! To talk about the second tastiest pork cutlet bowl I’ve ever tasted when I’m still on a diet!”

Yūri let the second innuendo slide since there was no one else in the world who would understand it, but still flushed slightly.

Stupid puberty, messing with his hormones.

“I’m dieting too, you know.” He said, amused. “Anyway, you were planning to come visit once the season ends anyway, so just be patient. If you get me a gold medal to kiss, you can have _two_ bowls. Since it’s the Olympics, after all.”

Yūri winked at his husband, who sighed lovingly at him before beaming widely.

“Two bowls of katsudon _and_ a kiss from my own Katsudon?” Viktor gasped dramatically, feigning that he was about to faint at the very idea of such wonderful prizes. “My heart will burst!”

“Maybe it’ll be better if you get silver, then.” Yūri grinned, more than used to his husband’s special brand of Extra™. “Also, I never said I would kiss you, just the medal.”

Yūri couldn’t help but laugh as Viktor gave him a severe pout.

“Speaking of the Olympics, what are you going to do?” Yūri asked after a moment, tilting his head. “If I remember correctly—“

“I’m sure you do.” Viktor had to give his input.

“Last time around your theme was innocence, which you’ll have to excuse me for saying probably won’t work so well for you this time around.” Yūri finished, ignoring the interruption.

“No, it probably wouldn’t.” Viktor agreed with a small smile pulling at his lips. “Which is why I…may have manipulated Yakov into letting me switch things up.”

Yūri's jaw dropped at that.

“Yakov let you do what?” he breathed out in stunned surprise as he tried to imagine how the gruff and strict coach could possibly have been convinced that that was a good idea.

“I was surprised, too!” Viktor laughed. “It probably helped that I kept stumbling around everywhere—I’m sure you’ve had trouble getting used to your younger body again, too.”

“Yeah, but I’m not on such a tight schedule.” Yūri frowned. “Be careful, please?”

“Always.” Viktor swore softly. “I’m not going to risk not being able to skate with you again, love, don’t worry.”

Yūri gave him a soft smile of gratitude and adoration that was immediately returned before Yūri threw his husband a metaphorical bone.

“I am thinking I should start making YouTube videos, though.” He said quietly, glancing at the camcorder in contemplation. “Might help bring in sponsors once I start competing, and the revenue will help mom and dad.”

“We could even try to bring more attention to Hasetsu as a whole.” Viktor said with an excited smile, and Yūri couldn’t help but grin once again at Viktor’s inclusion of himself, not even considering that he wouldn’t be involved. “I always wondered what it was like back before tourism dwindled. Momma told me at some point that even once things improved everything wasn’t quite the same.”

“Brilliant as always.” Yūri sighed. “See, this is why I married you.”

“And here I only married you for your pole-dancing.” Viktor grinned. “Before you ask, I checked around to make sure no one would hear me say that.”

Yūri chuckled, _long_ past the point where he might have taken such a comment in any way seriously.

“Here I was thinking it was because I’m the tastiest katsudon.” He smirked.

Viktor smirked back fondly, already planning to buy Yūri a t-shirt that said just that. Blue with gold font, maybe?

He couldn't wait to see the adorable scowl his husband was sure to send him when he got it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3


	9. Our Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! ;)

Just a few short days before Viktor was scheduled to head for Italy with the rest of Team Russia (for all winter sports instead of just the other figure skaters, which Yūri knew from his own Olympics experience was probably going to be _interesting_ ), Yūri received a package in the mail.

From Russia.

Luckily he was able to intercept it before anyone else saw it, Mari especially since she’d be the least likely to let the strange occurrence go, considering not only the expense of international shipping but also the fact that as far as anyone knew he didn’t _know_ anyone from Russia.

He should probably warn Viktor to be more careful in the future, at the very least until people actually knew they were in contact, but for now he was just curious about what was inside.

The ‘latest’ video and audio editing software.

At first he wondered why Viktor had sent something so seemingly random, but then he got to the note, which went something like…

_Thought you could use this for your YouTube videos!_

That was enough of an explanation, Yūri thought, but Viktor never did anything half-way, so he’d one to say that he knew Yūri probably didn’t think it necessary but Viktor disagreed and wouldn’t it be better to have the best quality possible if he was intending to use these videos to help keep Hasetsu’s tourism afloat and really Yūri should be glad that Viktor hadn’t given into the urge to just buy him a new camera.

Despite the degree in literature Viktor had earned when he’d decided to join Yūri on his second go at college to further his own degree and the fact that he’d successfully published a few books over the years (nothing that made the big screen or anything, but he had a loyal following under his pseudonym, since he hadn’t wanted his skating fans to buy his books merely because he’d been the one to write them), Viktor had a tendency to use run-on sentences.

To others, Viktor’s editor for example, it was an exasperating flaw.

In Yūri’s eyes, it was endearing, and he found his traitorous lips twitching up into a smile as he read what was basically a short persuasive essay.

Viktor was undeniably a goofball, but that just enhanced his good ( _amazing wonderful otherworldly as close to perfect as humanly possible_ ) qualities, not detract from them.

~

When Viktor got a new e-mail from Yūri the night before he and Yakov were set to fly out, he opened it almost warily, not sure if he was going to open it to find out that Yūri’s family had gotten to it before Yūri could after all, something he hadn’t thought about until it was too late.

However, there was a single audio file attached instead of the lecture he had been anticipating.

After blinking in confusion, he downloaded it and plugged in his headphones, turning up the volume and pressing play.

Within moments the sweet sound of a piano came through, and though the song was lacking in lyrics, it was more than enough for Viktor to immediately recognize it.

_Stammi Vicino._

Viktor didn’t notice the tears streaming down his face as he tried to curb his yearning to hear the violin accompaniment that announced the instrumental version of the song’s transition from a solo piece to a duet.

His wonderful, amazing, _perfect_ Yūri must have recorded himself playing the part of the piano on that old (or he supposed it was still new at this point) keyboard that Mari had re-gifted to him when she’d realized that it wasn’t her thing after all, and sent it to him to once again wish him luck at the Olympics.

Viktor had long since realized that he didn’t need luck as long as he had Yūri, but that truth had never really seemed to register as such in Yūri’s mind.

This was the song that had brought them together, and it would forever hold a special place in Viktor’s heart, above almost any other.

Keyword: almost.

There were a couple of songs that beat _Stammi Vicino_ on Viktor’s mental list of favorite musical pieces ever, and one of them happened to be the duet.

His eyes trailed over to the corner of his room to his violin case.

Back when he had lived with the Agreste family still, his lovely foster mother had put both him and Adrien through music lessons. Adrien had chosen the piano, likely because he’d thought that Gabriel would be less likely to disapprove than the other instruments he’d been curious about, and Viktor had been talked into learning how to play the cello.

Likely because Gabriel had thought that forcing Viktor to learn how to play the large instrument would keep him still, which hadn’t worked very well.

Eventually Viktor had realized that the cello had been just another way for Gabriel to try and control him, keep him contained, make him appear dignified so he wouldn't bring shame on the family, and so he’d switched to the violin, which not only fit him more but also had a higher sound that he hoped would irritate the man even more than Viktor himself did.

Later on, though, he’d fallen more in love with the violin because it had helped bring him closer to Yūri. It had been his playing that had been added to the original piano when they made his commissioned song a duet, after all.

Yūri always knew just what he needed, he thought with a besotted smile as he got up to grab his violin, intending to ask one of his neighbors if they had some sort of recorder he could borrow, and then maybe he’d buy his own when he had a chance.

It was time for two pieces to become one again.

~

The next morning Yūri woke up to a text from Viktor that he was about to board his flight, with a file attached that Yūri was fairly sure he knew the contents of.

He smiled, and opened up the editing software again, preparing to get to work.

Playing the piano part of _Stammi Vicino_ had been for Yūri just as much as it had been for Viktor, and now with Viktor’s part to meld seamlessly with Yūri’s to create _their song_ , the one they’d skated and danced to throughout their lives together, including their wedding…

It would feel like coming home.

And to two people who saw each other as their home but were forced to be apart right now, that feeling was priceless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3


	10. Olympic-Sized Musings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :)

Obviously this wasn’t the first time Viktor had witnessed the opening ceremonies for the 2006 Winter Olympics, and he’d had a blast the first time around (everything obviously at a much bigger scale than he was used to, but this time he couldn’t help but feel Yūri’s absence more than anything.

He knew the other male was watching from Hasetsu, presumably searching the screen for moments he might be able to see Viktor and uphold his promise to keep an eye on him (though Viktor supposed he could forgive him if he did in fact get distracted by katsudon).

Still, it felt odd to be back in an Olympic stadium without his husband by his side.

For that matter, he mused as the Parade of Nations started and the countries’ representatives filed into the open space alphabetically, he also missed having their old friends represent their own countries.

Thailand and Kazakhstan didn’t even have any figure skaters competing, Phichit and Otabek not yet old enough to even be in the juniors’ circuit, much less the Olympics.

It wasn’t just them, either. He wondered if, like Yūri, the others were watching, just waiting for the day when it would be their turn…

It just further drove home Viktor’s feeling of being out of place, and he unconsciously let out a sigh, only for one of the other Russian team members, a snowboarder, he thought, to jab him in the ribs.

“Enjoy it while it lasts, kid.” The man muttered gruffly, lips barely moving just in case any cameras were focused on them. “You’ve made the big leagues.”

Viktor’s eye twitched, but he could hardly tell the guy that he was older than him so could he drop the ‘kid’ thing, or that he was also a five-time consecutive world champion who had won more Olympic golds and broken more records that the other man could even dream of.

Instead, he took a deep breath, letting the irritation go.

It was hardly this guy’s fault that Viktor was in a mood, and he was just trying to help.

Damn, he missed Yūri.

Still, he did try and keep his spirits up, trying to match the excitement of everyone around him. Yakov would kill him if anyone noticed his disinterest, and his sweet Yūri would worry, which Viktor always tried to avoid if humanly possible.

It wouldn’t be quite so bad, he thought, if at least Georgi was beside him, but Viktor had been injured last season when they were determining how many entries each country would be allowed to enter, so Russia had only been able to choose one representative, and he had been the obvious choice.

Viktor knew that arrogance had been an issue of his in the past, and he’d worked hard to get better, but in this he knew that, realistically, Georgi hadn’t even stood a chance. Never had, really, with Viktor and then Yurio stealing the spotlight.

Maybe he should try and convince him to switch to pair skating or ice dancing? It would probably appeal to the other skater’s sense of romance, and Viktor didn’t doubt he’d have a talent for it if he tried, so he could get the recognition he deserved…

Viktor had considered before, though not seriously, what would happen if Viktor threw a competition and allowed Georgi to win gold, but he knew that no self-respecting athlete would appreciate something like that.

His mind had wandered so much that he almost missed the next performance, but when the familiar sound of _Nessun Dorma_ sounded through the stadium, Viktor’s attention was drawn to the man onstage.

Luciano Pavarotti, the performer donning a black cape embroidered with the Olympic rings in silver.

Viktor smiled, bittersweet as he watched the man’s last performance (for the second time).

It was lip-synched, he knew, but considering the man’s bad health being exacerbated by the horrible weather, he could hardly blame the man.

It was a horrible thing, he mused with a heavy feeling as he cheered just as genuinely as anyone else in the crowd, to know someone’s fate.

~

Yakov could practically feel each individual hair graying as he looked around for his infuriating student.

You know, the one who was supposed to be on the ice in mere _moments_ , but was nowhere to be found even though Yakov had only looked away for a split-second…

Eventually he was pointed down the hall by a nearby security guard, and he nodded politely as he followed the man’s direction and turned the corner to see Viktor murmuring into his phone, eyes soft and a loving smile gracing his face.

Angry as he was, that expression made Yakov pause.

He looked…like a man in love.

Trying not to think about his own failed relationship, Yakov struggled to hear what Viktor was saying, a futile effort once he realized that he was speaking another language.

Now, Yakov was well-traveled from his years as both a skater and then a coach, and the language did sound familiar, probably from somewhere in Asia, but he couldn’t quite place it.

It would probably bother him for a while, once this damned competition was over and Yakov had a chance to think back on it, but by now Viktor had caught sight of him and was ending the call.

“Gomen, Yakov—“ Viktor shook himself, switching back from the mystery language to one Yakov knew. “Sorry. My Yūri wanted to wish me luck, but with the time difference he wasn’t able to call earlier. I’m ready to skate, now.”

For a moment he just blinked at the teenager, bemused, before shaking his head irritably and grabbing the brat’s wrist and pulling him towards the rink.

At this point, he should seriously consider adjusting his coaching fees to allow for a hat budget, because god knew he was going to end up needing to hide his lack of hair one of these days.

As Viktor went on to skate a spectacular Short Program for some modern song that regrettably had turned out be better executed than their original plan, even if they’d had to cut out the lyrics so that the could use it, Yakov wondered how he could’ve possibly missed the brat falling in love.

He was distracted from his thoughts when Viktor was announced to be in first place after the Short Program, easily eclipsing the other competitors and leaving him with a decent advantage, though the Free Skate was worth more so he was in no way guaranteed to win, much less place gold.

Later on, he’d come to regret dismissing Viktor’s behavior as some short-term fling, but by then it would be too late.

~

Yūko smiled wryly as she caught sight of Yūri heading to his next class with his eyes and fingers practically glued to his phone, typing frantically.

“What’cha doin’, Yūri-kun?” she chirped from behind him, delighting in her friend’s surprised jump as he whirled around, eyes wide.

Then he relaxed, and gave her a smile, still clearly distracted by his phone as he continued typing out his message while answering her.

“Just wishing Viktor luck.” He waved his phone screen at her for a moment, and she saw that someone named ‘Vitya’ was the recipient of the message he had just sent.

Before she could demand to know if he was talking to who she _thought_ he was (after all these years being a Viktor Nikiforov fan alongside Yūri you’d better believe she recognized the Cyrillic alphabet when she saw it), he disappeared into his classroom.

She stood there, frozen, for a long moment until Takeshi noticed her odd behavior.

“Yūko-chan, what’s wrong?” he asked, true concern in his eyes.

She blinked, before seeming to snap back to normal, smiling fondly him and appreciating his worry.

“Nothing’s wrong.” She answered promptly, because even if she didn’t know how this development had occurred or when, she was sure that Yūri would make the best of it. “Just something I didn’t expect, that’s all.”

With that, she nudged his arm, and he fell into step beside her as they walked to their own class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3


	11. Strengthening Bonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :D

By the end of the day, Yūko was about ready to jump out of her skin.

Not out of fear or nerves, mind you, but because the unexpected encounter with Yūri had made her more hyper than a bunny on crack as she waited for a good opportunity to corner him and demand to know just how and when he’d managed to get close enough to their Russian idol to send him text messages.

In Cyrillic, of all things!

Since when did Yūri know more than the few Russian words they had learned from trying to interpret news articles and interviews regarding the older teenager?

She had only just managed to keep her curiosity contained earlier because of her bewilderment and the fact that if she was late to class one more time her parents’ threat of grounding her from Ice Castle may no longer just be a threat, but then she’d come to realize that waiting until they were both on the ice would make her interrogation easier because it would be harder for Yūri to escape her clutches.

Hey, at least she was self-aware.

~

When she arrived at Ice Castle, Yūri was already there, working his way slowly but surely through a routine that was shockingly familiar.

Now, emulating Viktor Nikiforov’s performances was in no way unusual for the pair of them, and that’s not what surprised her.

The fact that this routine had only just debuted yesterday, and Yūri’s current rendition of it was far more skillful than anyone would’ve ever expected after such little time, however?

Yeah, _that_ surprised her.

She knew that Yūri had the potential to be one of the most skilled skaters in the world, if not the best, but this level of growth in such a short time was…well, let’s just say she doubted it would be very long until Yūri himself represented their country on an Olympic rink.

“Ah, Yūko-chan.” Yūri smiled when he saw her, and Yūko hummed to herself thoughtfully when she noticed that the nervous look in his eyes that he’d look at her with these past few months was completely gone.

Interesting.

“Yūri-kun!” she practically sang. “You’ve got some ‘splaining to do!”

Her English wasn’t the best, but at least she tried.

Yūri just blinked at her for a moment, as if wondering what she was talking about, before his eyes widened slightly and he forced himself to offer her a stiff smile, swallowing nervously.

~

Takeshi gaped at his two friends (though he used the term loosely when it came to Katsuki).

“Let me get this straight.” He said, glancing down at Katsuki’s phone where the evidence to back up this weird story was right there in black and white.

“Obsessive fanboy that he is, Katsuki here sent Nikiforov a DM when he found out the guy’s social media account. Nikiforov deigned to respond to it, and now you two are in constant contact.” He started. “Not only that, but somehow not only did you somehow learn Russian overnight, but Nikiforov just so happens to know Japanese.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say I was _obsessive_.” Katsuki hedged with a blush, wringing his fingers together nervously. “In my defense, I started learning Russian because they’re one of the biggest in figure skating. If it was just because of Viktor, I wouldn’t have learned also English, or...well, I’ve been trying to learn more. Luckily Viktor’s fluent in French, but I don’t have anyone to practice with for the other languages yet.”

“What?” Yūko-chan gaped, eyes wide, and Takeshi was at least relieved to know that he wasn’t the only one whose mind was being blown.

“Never mind that.” Takeshi said, staring at the other male intently, who blinked back at him.

The tone of voice the other used when they were talking about Viktor, and the lack of blushing or second-guessing his words around Yūko-chan anymore…

He found himself relaxing his shoulders, which he hadn’t even realized were tense until then.

Katsuki wasn’t interested in Yūko-chan.

Maybe he had been at one point, but not anymore.

The tiny smile that graced his face, and the bright light in his eyes as he glanced down to read the message Nikiforov had just sent him just solidified Takeshi’s newfound knowledge.

Huh.

Maybe without the rivalry between them over her affections an actual friendship could develop between them.

~

A few weeks later, once this year's Olympics had ended (with none of them being surprised in the slightest that Nikiforov won gold with points to spare), and Takeshi and Yūri had settled into what the former thought to be an unsteady friendship, but one that the latter accepted wholeheartedly.

Even before Yūri’s crush on Yūko-chan had faded Takeshi had stopped calling him cruel names like he had previously, having almost thrown up when his and Yūko’s teacher showed them a video warning against bullying, and he’d seen what kind of things that kind of behavior could potentially drive people to do.

His reluctant respect for Yūri (the kid was stubborn and determined as a bull, okay, and he wasn’t blind) had risen drastically when he realized that the kid had refrained from lashing out at others despite not only Takeshi’s bullying but that of others (bullies he was now standing up to himself in defense of his ‘new’ friend).

It was only later that he would realize that perhaps part of the reason Yūri didn’t lash out at others was because he was too busy attacking himself, though even that seemed less prevalent now that Viktor was able to calm him down most of the time.

At one point, Yūri had nearly had a panic attack when Minako nearly got hurt in a wreck on her way back from some sort of class in Tokyo, and Yūko had stolen her friend’s phone and called Viktor, who answered immediately despite it being extremely early in Russia.

The two of them had heard the Russian teen’s concern as he crooned soft words into Yūri’s ear, and though they only caught a few words here and there (Viktor and Yūri, they’d come to find out, switched languages constantly when they spoke), they came away with the knowledge that the older skater cared about Yūri just as much as their friend cared about him, a realization that was periodically reinforced.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3
> 
> Figured I'd focus this one more on their interpersonal relationships other than the fact that, yes, Viktor won gold this time around, unlike in the original where he didn't switch programs.


	12. Bonus Chapter 1: YouTube video

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :D

**(Trying to) Do My Best Friend's Make-Up**

“Ohayo, everyone!” Yūri smiled nervously as he pressed record and sat down. “So, as you’ve probably noticed, today I’m joined by one of my oldest friends, Yūko.”

“Hey!” she waved at the camera cheerfully before turning to him. “Can I explain what we’re doing, or did you want to?”

“By all means.” He gestured, already pulling a fair amount of containers out of the bag she had brought with her, doing his best to figure out what they all were.

“Okay, so I saw Yūri here fix himself up for the recent exhibition skate we did to help promote Ice Castle, the rink owned by our friend Takeshi’s family.” She started. “He didn’t put on anything more than the basics, just a bit of foundation to help with the lighting, and some mascara and lip gloss, but I wanted to see if he’d be able to figure out how to put on more than that.”

“I have absolutely no idea what most of this is.” He admitted freely, eyes narrowed as he compared two of the many containers. “Anyway, this stuff is expensive, or so I’ve been told, so instead of borrowing someone’s make-up to try and put it on myself, which is a bad idea apparently, Yūko offered to be my model and is letting me use her collection. Hopefully I don’t break anything, but…no promises.”

“It’s about time to replace most of it anyway, so it wouldn’t be a big loss.” Yūko shrugged.

Yūri blinked up at her obliviously. “Replace it?”

“Yeah, it’s cleaner that way.” She hummed, lips twitching in a smile as she watched her friend try and figure out if the powder in his hands was eyeshadow or blush. “You’re supposed to replace it every couple of years or so, especially the eye make-up.”

“Why do people bother if it’s so expensive, then?” he muttered, almost quietly enough that the camera wouldn’t pick it up. “I mean, I’m all for self-expression, don’t get me wrong, but can’t they make this stuff cheaper?”

“Well, there are products you can buy for all budgets, so it’s really up to the consumer to decide when the price outweighs the practicality.” She shrugged, pulling out a headband to keep her hair out of her face.

“I’ll stick with the basics.” Yūri sighed, finally giving up. “I don’t know where to start, here.”

“Just do whatever you think is right.” she grinned.

“I’ll have you know that that is supremely unhelpful.” He snarked back as he uncapped a random bottle that looked said primer.

To prime meant to prepare, right? Did this go on before the foundation, or after the foundation but before anything else?

He was so confused.

Viktor would probably know, though.

“I don’t suppose I can phone a friend?” he tried. In response, Yūko just raised an eyebrow at him, so he shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Biting his lip as he looked between the bottles of primer and foundation, he decided to bite the bullet and grab the former, opening it and looking around uncertainly for a brush or sponge.

On the rare occasion he put foundation on himself he just rubbed it in with his bare hands, but if Viktor’s lamentations had been anything to go by when he had said as much whenever the Russian had the opportunity to put it on for him, that wasn’t how it was supposed to be done.

Well, with foundation at any rate. Was the primer stuff different?

Eventually he decided to use one of the weird pale yellow sponges, if only because doing so with his hands would be awkward as hell, considering it was Yūko he’d be doing it to.

No thank you.

“Make sure to get it nice and even, Yūri.” She muttered, eyes closed.

“Your expectations are way too high.” He murmured back as he finished, now moving onto the actual foundation.

Similarly, he wanted to use a sponge for this, and Yūko had brought a few fresh ones. Was he supposed to use the same one, or grab a new one? On the one hand, he felt like that would be wasteful, but on the other hand, everyone had always told him that make-up products were pricey, so maybe that made sense?

“Remember there are brushes, too.” She grinned as she noticed that he’d been quiet for a little too long as he tried to decide.

He looked at her forlornly. “That just makes it worse!”

After a moment, however, he decided that if she had bothered to mention it at this point, it probably meant that he was meant to be using a brush, so decided to choose one that already seemed stained a light color, which he held the bottle up to in order to check if it matched.

Deciding that it was close enough, he went to pour some of the bottle’s contents on the brush itself, but Yūko whimpered slightly.

“What?” he sighed, stopping himself from doing so.

“Maybe put the foundation on your hand instead of directly on the brush.” She ordered.

“…Okay then.” He grumbled, putting some on the back of his left hand so he could still control the brush with his right. “I did tell you I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing better than Takeshi would, probably.” She grinned.

“I would pay to see that.” Yūri snorted, making sure the foundation covered his friend’s face evenly. This, at least, he had used before, brush or no, so he knew not to use too much.

“I’d be more interested to see Viktor do _your_ make-up, actually.” She turned it around on him. “Or would he start saying that you’re perfect as it is and you don’t need to obscure your beautiful face?”

“Probably.” Yūri admitted with an amused snort. “He’s very biased.”

“The best kind of bias.” Yūko sighed, charmed at the idea of being so enamored with someone. “Though, _he’s_ the type to buy the expensive stuff.”

“Yeah, the _Chanel_ lip gloss kind of clued me in to that one.” Yūri hummed, remembering another life when his husband had wiped said product over his lips before the Regionals competition.

He tried not to squirm at the memory.

Damn hormones.

“Ooh, and how do you know about that, Yūri?” she grinned deviously. Yūri had already told her and Takeshi that trying to hide his relationship with Viktor would only make people dig deeper and try and invade their privacy, so during his videos he didn’t bother to avoid the topic.

Granted, people would start digging if (and when) they found out just _which_ Viktor Yūri was dating, but for now they’d appreciate the anonymity.

“What exactly are you trying to imply with that question? We haven’t even met in person yet.” Yūri raised an eyebrow back to her, starting to dust her cheeks with what he assumed was blush. Then again, maybe it was eyeshadow, but if she was going to tease him while they did this than why should he try and be too careful with it?

“Keyword: yet.” She repeated. “You didn’t deny thinking about his lips.”

“I’m a teenage boy in a long-distance relationship, of course I think about kissing him.” Yūri huffed, not noticing his friend’s surprise at the easy admission.

~

**[Comments Section]**

_LazySusan: That didn’t turn out nearly as bad as I was expecting, considering he had no idea what most of it was. Good job, Yūri! <3_

_Mamorima: My favorite part was definitely when she attacked him with a make-up wipe to see if he was wearing any mascara after realizing it had taken make-up to make hers look as long. So jealous that that’s natural!_

Ravlet: Some people are just born lucky.

PrinceZuko: and some people are just lucky to be born. (Sorry, couldn’t help myself. I <3 Avatar!!! And Yūri!)

_theREALSailorMoon: I don’t know, it’s kind of weird for them to be close enough for her to feel comfortable enough to attack him like that, or for him to touch her face like this. How do we know ‘Viktor’ and ‘Takeshi’ actually exist?_

Elephant_on_Skates: This is Takeshi. I exist. Not that I’m dating Yūko-chan…but neither is he.

theREALSailorMoon: Mhm, sure. Someone’s in denial.

itsPLATINUM: Viktor here. I swear on my long, beautiful platinum hair that they’re not dating. Yūri is all mine. So lucky to have him. <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

(read more)

theREALSailorMoon: Spamming the comments with hearts doesn’t make something true.

Katsukidon: No denial to be had here. Also, Vitya, I always thought your hair was more of a silver, myself.

itsPLATINUM: I mean, as long as you don’t say it’s gray, Yūri love! <3 But we don’t kiss silver, remember?

Katsukidon: You mean YOU don’t kiss silver. I’m not quite so picky.

itsPLATINUM: I’m not picky! I’d still kiss you if you were covered in garbage.

Elephant_on_Skates: He’s not covered in garbage, he IS garbage. Utter Viktor Trash.

itsPLATINUM: #Number1YūriTrash

Katsukidon: Oh god, tell me you didn’t, Viktor…

itsPLATINUM: Soon you won’t be able to get away from it, love! <3

theREALSailorMoon: I don’t even know what’s happening right now.

Katsukidon: That’s probably for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3
> 
> Don't judge me too much for this. Female I may be, but my knowledge of make-up is just about as limited as Yuuri's. I wouldn't have known primer was a thing if I hadn't watched a few '*insert relationship here* Does My Make-Up' videos before writing this.
> 
> Very well might have Viktor do Yuuri's own make-up at some point later. Once Yuuri's old enough that Viktor won't have to hold back from kissing him during the video, at least. :P


	13. School Drama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! <3

Yūri mentioned, in as off-handed a manner as he was capable of, that he had decided that he wanted to go to his godmother’s alma mater when he graduated high school, wanting to see how the people around him would react to his words.

Everyone was surprised, considering Minako had gone to university in America and Yūri had never expressed such an interest before, but considering how much his English had ‘improved’ recently they figured he must have just been too anxious to voice that desire.

He made a token attempt to try and find a coach willing to come to Hasetsu to work with him, feigning disappointment when no one took him up on it (after all, Hasetsu was hardly a point of interest for the Japanese Skating Federation at this point).

Minako herself caught Yūri browsing her old school’s website, particularly the cost of tuition, which as usual was always more expensive for non-residents of the state, and the way he bit his lips as he looked at the screen contemplatively, and the tense set of his shoulders as he received another polite refusal from one of the Japanese coaches who hadn’t so much as come to watch him skate or else they would’ve seen that taking him on as a student would have been _worth it…_

That look in her eyes, paired with the mushy feelings caused by Yūri’s desire to attend the same school as she had, caused her to have a long conversation with Hiroko and Toshiya.

It would’ve been easier, they agreed, if one of the coaches their boy had reached out to have given him so much as a second thought. Minako knew the kid had the talent to go pro, and though Yūri’s parents didn’t know enough about figure skating to be able to really tell, they had faith in their son and trusted their friend’s judgment in the matter. A coach would have brought sponsors, which would’ve brought in money to save so that Yūri could study abroad.

He would also, Minako admitted, probably have more luck finding a coach than here in Japan, where a junior skater from Hasetsu wasn’t really on anyone’s radar and wouldn’t be until Yūri commanded their attention forcefully, which he hadn’t been given the chance to do yet.

From there, Toshiya hesitantly suggested that in order to qualify for the state’s residency requirements (which Minako had carefully researched), it might be better for Yūri to finish his secondary education in Michigan, so that by the time he graduated it wouldn’t be a problem.

This particular discussion lasted over a week, as they realized that obviously someone would have to go with him.

Toshiya and Hiroko had the onsen to look after, already feeling the drain as less and less tourists showed up to help with business, and likewise Minako had her dance studio and bar to look after.

There was only one real option here, if they were going to go that route, but Mari hadn’t decided if she wanted to attend university herself, they’d all assumed that if she did it would be in Japan, not America, and if she _did_ go with Yūri and attend university while she was there then _she_ would be the one paying out-of-state tuition and—

Needless to say, the discussion was shelved for the time being, but it had by no means ended.

~

School started in early April, and with the new school year came a changed Katsuki Yūri.

His ambitions were common knowledge, and some of his more asshole-ish classmates had always made fun of him for it, claiming that he must be insane if he thought he was good enough to make it out of Hasetsu, much less become a professional athlete, and despite the fact that Takeshi had stopped with that kind of mocking that didn’t prevent the other bullies.

Last year, there had been times where Yūri had believed the cruel words, time when he’d wondered if he was just kidding himself. Unlike what some of them thought he wasn’t working himself to the bone just for a chance to _leave_ , but to run _towards_ someone, but their taunts and jeers at how he was so eager to abandon his family had often gotten to him.

It was partly why, after his initial failure at the 2015 Sochi Grand Prix Final had ended pitifully, and his beloved Vicchan who he had indeed _abandoned_ in order to get the chance to be there in the first place had _died_ —

Well, was it any wonder he’d fallen into depression for a while?

That being said, over the decades of marriage to Viktor, living in Saint Petersburg and then later Detroit for a few years after they retired before finally settling down in Hasetsu to help train the next generation of skaters and dancers…he had realized what his family and friends had been trying to tell him for years: going after his dreams, even if the path he chose took him away from them, didn’t mean that he had left them behind.

With this newfound perspective, Yūri now looked at his high school bullies in an entirely different light, no longer bothered by their words and only occasionally irritated when their attempts to rile him up interfered with his studies.

Their teachers tried to help, but Yūri was reluctant to speak out against the other students too much. In his eyes, he was the adult and they were practically children, and he didn’t want their childishness (some of them had become friendly acquaintances later in life the first time around) to ruin their future if they got in trouble too much.

It all came to a head when one of them, frustrated with Yūri’s bored expression in response to his hurled insults and weeks of hearing girls whisper how attractive the other boy had gotten over break, threw a punch.

Luckily even though Yūri hadn’t expected the attack he’d been able to dodge the brunt of it, but the bruise on his cheekbone from where the punch had grazed him had thrown Minako into a protective frenzy.

It took half an hour to convince her not to try and get the police involved, and it became harder to do when one of the witnesses mentioned it wasn’t the first time someone had harassed Yūri. The fact that the teachers had known and tried ineffectually to help didn’t help matters, and it wasn’t long until she convinced Hiroko and Toshiya to pull him out of school for now, muttering how school in America began in late summer or early fall anyway, and if they were going to do this they might as well not force Yūri into over a year of straight schooling with no summer vacation in the interim.

Yūri had been shell-shocked to hear that they had gone from knowing Yūri intended to go to Detroit at some point for college to actively planning to move him out there earlier to make the transition easier and lighten the expense.

Mari had even agreed to come with him and act as his legal guardian while they were there, even though she hadn’t yet decided about the whole college thing for herself.

She’d started applying for jobs in the area the moment their parents had pulled her aside and explained what they’d been thinking, and she was also considering applying for scholarships in case she did want to attend classes.

Thank god both siblings were fluent in English. Yūri’s accent was less prominent and he knew the slang and idioms better considering the time travel thing, but their parents had raised them to at least be conversational in the language. Luckily Mari hadn’t been a slouch in her English lessons at school, so the reading and writing wasn’t too much of a challenge for her.

His family (Minako included) was pretty damn amazing.

Not that this was new information, but it still deserved to be said.

Still…this would actually work better, wouldn’t it?

He’d still be able to train under Celestino, if he was able to convince the man to take him on, and if he remembered right (which he knew he did), Phichit was set to start training with Celestino this year, too.

Maybe if he graduated early, he could even get an associate’s degree under his belt before he turned eighteen and moved to Saint Petersburg to be with Viktor.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by Minako, who had laid a hand on his arm.

“If you’re going to head off to places unknown,” she began, ignoring his skeptical eyebrow at her phrasing, since obviously Detroit was a known entity for her. “We’re going to make sure no other shithead trying to land a punch will manage it.”

Yūri’s eyes widened at the devilish look in her eyes, and even Mari looked wary when that look was turned on her as well.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” his sister muttered with a defeated sigh.

You and me both, Yūri thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES:
> 
> Don’t worry, Mari will still be let in on the secret, and Viktor’s still coming to Japan at some point before they leave.
> 
> Thought I’d go into a bit more detail how Yūri’s parents were convinced to send him to Detroit earlier.
> 
> Also, yes, you read that correctly. In this version, Phichit arrived in Detroit to train under Celestino before Yūri did, even if Yūri is heading to Detroit years earlier than in canon. Should change things up a bit, at least.


	14. Reunited (and it feels so good)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :D

To Yūri’s surprise, Viktor managed to last until the last of the post-Olympic celebrations (and interviews and photoshoots and advertisements and--) died down for the most part before sneaking off to visit him in Japan.

He’d feel prouder of his husband’s restraint if the Russian hadn’t shamelessly admitted that he’d packed his bags and dragged poor Makkachin to the airport no less than twelve times before realizing how bad the timing was, but at least he’d managed to wait.

Viktor was set to arrive in Tokyo in mere hours, ostensibly to get a feel for the place to prepare for next year’s World Championships, but as he’d never bothered to ‘scope’ out a location before Yakov ignored the reason when he called to demand to know what Viktor thought he was doing.

Honestly though, as Viktor had muttered with a pout as he snuggled with Makkachin and watched Yūri yawn from the computer screen, he had no real right to dictate what Viktor did during the off-season.

Which was fair, Yūri allowed, but texting the man to let him know he’d only left the country when he’d already boarded the plane was part of the reason Yakov was so high-strung, and wouldn’t it be interesting to see how long Yakov’s hair would last if they didn’t actively work towards making it fall out?

They had looked at each other for a long moment before Viktor erupted into giggles, and even Yūri found himself unable to keep from snickering at the idea that all of Yakov’s hair problems had been caused by Viktor.

Between them, Yurio, Georgi, and Mila…the poor man had never had a chance.

~

“Come on, Mari, my skates are ready.” Yūri smiled as he urged his sister down the street where he and Viktor were intending to meet up.

“Yeah, yeah.” Mari sighed, though she walked slightly faster in response to her brother’s excitement, which she thought was a little much just for a new pair of skates.

Not that she didn’t acknowledge their importance, considering Yūri fully intended to make a career out of his skating, but still.

Priorities.

It happened suddenly.

One moment Yūri was right in front of her, and the next someone was shouting his name and her brother was practically tackled to the ground by a figure that had practically come out of nowhere.

It wasn’t often that her protective instinct arose, but seeing her brother on the ground after seemingly being attacked sure as hell rose her hackles.

In a move that Minako and some of Mari’s less reputable friends would have been proud of, she quickly got beside the man and grabbed his arm, flipping him forcefully until he was on the ground beside Yūri.

She wasn’t sure what her next move would have been after that, but luckily she didn’t have to find out, because the man’s face made her freeze in complete shock and bewilderment.

“Viktor Nikiforov?!” she spluttered, eyes widening as Yūri got up and scowled at her, gently pulling the Russian to his feet and brushing imaginary dirt from the older skater’s shirt.

“Always one to act first and ask questions later, aren’t you Mari?” Yūri muttered dryly as he scanned his idol for injuries. “Are you okay, Viktor?”

“Perfect when you’re around, my Yūri, as always.” Viktor grinned as he said it, and Mari was just as thrown by the words as the fact that he said it in perfect Japanese. “Glad to know you’ll be well-protected while you’re in Detroit. Nice throw, Mari.”

“I can take care of myself, thanks.” Yūri honest to god _pouted_ at the older teenager, his idol, and Mari’s mind was blown.

“I don’t doubt it, but when you’re outnumbered by fans, your options are limited.” Viktor agreed, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Those Angels, forgive the oxymoron, were persistent little devils.”

“I’m sure Yurotchka would agree with you.” Yūri snorted, shaking his head. “I’ll figure something out. How is Makka, by the way?”

“Ah, he’s is at the hotel.” Viktor gave a heart-shaped smile. “I wanted to give him a chance to adjust before bombarding him with new scents and sights. How’s my little namesake?”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” Yūri sighed with a reluctantly amused smile.

“Never.” Viktor grinned back at him.

They weren’t saying or asking each other anything that they didn’t already know, but they wanted Mari to see that they knew each other, after her response to Viktor’s glomp, and Viktor’s knowledge of Vicchan would certainly help them show that.

That was the plan, anyway.

Yūri didn’t expect for Viktor, the impulsive dork ( _his_ impulsive dork), to turn and look Mari in the eyes and say his next words with such utter conviction and honesty in his bright blue eyes that it was hard not to believe him.

“Hello, Mari-neechan! I’m Viktor, your future brother-in-law.” He gave another heart-shaped smile, not daring to try and hug her only because before she got an explanation she would likely try and kill him with her bare hands, something he would put past her. “Your hair is darker than I remember. I knew you were always lying when you told me it was natural!”

He winked, tongue sticking out slightly in a playful manner as Mari struggled to comprehend the words coming out of his mouth.

“Have we…met?” she asked after a long moment, shaky and slightly pale.

“Well, I mean, technically not before today, but taking into account the fact that Yūri and I somehow managed to time-travel…” he shrugged.

Yūri, as he himself refrained from shaking Viktor and demanding to know what the hell he was thinking telling her the truth, much less in such a casual manner, wasn’t surprised at all when his sister suddenly slumped to the ground.

“Thanks a lot, Vitya.” He said with a sigh, bending down to pick her up and move her to a nearby bench.

~

The next few hours were spent with Mari just watching the other two interact.

They went back to Viktor’s hotel room for a short while, and Mari was ready to drag her brother out at the slightest hint of danger, but the two boys just spent all of their time cooing at the Russian’s poodle and lamenting on how Yūri hadn’t been able to bring Vicchan with him for a play date.

They had migrated to the couch, with Yūri leaning against the arm of the couch with his feet comfortably in Viktor’s lap as Makkachin lounged on his legs, chatting about people and events that Mari had no knowledge of.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that she was still processing, Mari would have demanded that Yūri get away from the Russian immediately, but by the time her brain went online again it had been long enough that she realized that Nikiforov would’ve made his move already if he had any less than appropriate reasons for snuggling with her brother.

“I’m going to need you to explain what’s going on.” Mari heard a voice, and she numbly realized that it was her own. “Slowly, and with as much detail as possible.”

“Don’t get him started.” Yūri snorted, reaching out to ruffle Viktor’s hair.

“I’m a writer, it’s my job to be verbose when the situation calls for it.” Viktor protested half-heartedly, though he didn’t look as if he much cared, closing his eyes and leaning into the younger’s touch.

“Writer?” You’d think that, as much as Yūri talked about the guy, she’d have known that.

“In my spare time, at least.” Viktor admitted with a careless shrug. “Yūri suggested I use my love of reading to try and share my own made-up stories with the world, and he helped me edit my first book!”

“So many run-on sentences.” Yūri nodded sagely, looking completely serious. “I was his actual editor’s first line of defense. Otherwise he’d wait until the very last second to turn in his manuscripts.”

“I get to re-write them all.” Viktor sighed happily, ignoring the teasing. “I’ll have to switch things up a bit, keep them more entertaining, but—”

“Viktor, we’re the only ones who would know that they aren’t the original versions.” Yūri peaked up at him over his glasses. “You don’t need to switch them up to keep people surprised.”

“It’s you I want to surprise, though!” Viktor protested.

“Oh Viktor,” Yūri chuckled warmly. “You’ve never stopped surprising me, not even for a moment.”

“Nor have you, moya lyubov.” Viktor sighed lovingly.

Watching them stare into each other’s eyes and completely ignore the world around them, Mari couldn’t help but believe their claim that they had been in love for decades.

She’d always known her brother had the potential to be a sap, if he just let himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3
> 
> Sorry if it's not up to par, I was really tired when I wrote this. Now I'm off to bed. 
> 
> Zzzzz...


	15. Let's Make One Thing Clear, Nikiforov...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :D

Obviously, Mari needed a bit more than Viktor’s claim and Yūri’s silence on the matter to believe that they were actually _time-travelers_ , and the rapid-fire way they answered any random question about each other she could think of did a lot to support the fact that, at the very least, they knew each other very well.

There was also the fact that Viktor had cooked them katsudon that _had_ to have been her mother’s recipe, and he was using chopsticks like he’d used them all his life.

Did that necessarily mean time travel?

No.

Yūri could have asked their mother for the recipe (Mari didn’t think he’d have known it off the top of his head, despite it being his favorite dish), and Viktor might just have a lot of practice eating at restaurants that served Asian cuisine.

Still, there was no real way to undisputable prove their claim, at least not immediately, so for now she was going to wait and go with it until they were able to prove it either way.

Then she had an idea.

“Ugh, of course.” Mari face-palmed at her own oblivious. “Here’s what we’ll do: you two write down some spoilers for the next book in the Harry Potter series, and I’ll keep it with me in a sealed envelope somewhere you two can’t get a hold of it. Once it’s released and I’m finished reading the book, I’ll be able to see for myself that you guys really are from the future.”

You would think the boys would be offended that she was so skeptical, but honestly, they wouldn’t have expected anything else, not that Yūri had ever considered telling anyone else in the first place.

He’d have to have a _talk_ with his husband about that, but in the meantime…

“We can do that.” He said agreeably. “Just don’t give into temptation and read the spoilers first. You’d never forgive us, even if us writing it down was your idea.”

She, very maturely, stuck her tongue out at him, but conceded, if only to herself, that he wasn’t wrong.

“Anyway,” Mari changed the subject, glancing down at her phone to see that their parents had granted them permission to stay in Tokyo for the night, since it was getting so late. “Obviously you’re together. Do I need to bust any heads?”

Viktor and Yūri’s eyes widened, and Yūri raised a hand in surrender.

“We were happily married for over twenty years, Mari.” He assured her.

“Ugh, please don’t say _were._ ” Viktor cringed, honest pain showing on his face. “You’re still my husband.”

“And you’re still mine.” Yūri grinned, a slightly possessive glint in his eyes, and wow, Mari didn’t need to know that much about her little brother. It was subtle (for now at least), but the implications… “I just mean that we’d need the paperwork if we want our marriage acknowledged by anyone else, and that can’t happen for another few years.”

“Longest years of my post-banquet life.” Viktor sighed.

‘What the hell does that mean?’ Mari wondered, bewildered, but then she zeroed in on the implications of _that._

“Speaking of, you touch my brother before he can legally consent and I’ll make damn certain no one will ever find the body!” she hissed, glaring daggers into the ‘platinum’ blonde’s head.

“Calm down, Mari!” Yūri chastised as Viktor tried to lean further into the couch to get farther away from her. “Neither of us are ephebophiles.”

That…brought her up short. Still, it seemed to be an assurance, so she let it calm her down slightly.

“I don’t know that word.” She admitted.

“I’m not sexually attracted to adolescents, regardless of who it is.” Viktor explained. “The thought of doing anything more than hugging and kissing Yūri right now…”

If nothing else, the pure disgust on his face reassured her more, as did Yūri’s nod of agreement.

“I’m physically younger than Yurio was when I met him.” Yūri grimaced. “No, we’re waiting until I’m at least sixteen for _that_.”

When he saw Mari about to protest, he continued quickly. “It’s the age of consent in Russia.”

“Ah, about that.” Viktor murmured, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced up at Yūri sheepishly. “I’d prefer to wait until you’re eighteen, actually.”

Yūri tilted his head curiously, but accepted that easily enough.

Considering his hormones were probably wrecking hell on his body (not that Mari _wanted_ to think about her brother going through puberty), Mari thought it was a decidedly mature reaction to waiting two more years than technically necessary, depending on where they’d be at the time at least.

“Sure.” He verbalized his agreement with a shrug. Their relationship was _hardly_ reliant on sex, after all. “Though I’m curious why.”

“It will be easier to look your parents in the eye when I ask for their consent to marry you as soon as possible if I haven’t, by Japan’s laws, defiled their underage son.” Viktor answered immediately.

“Who said you’d be the one doing the defiling?” Yūri teased with a wink.

“Yeah, let’s _nope_ the fuck out of this conversation.” Mari interrupted, since her apparently not-so-little brother and future brother-in-law had evidently forgotten she was there.

Unless they were that open about their past (future?) private lives _regardless_ of who was listening, in which case that was even worse.

Still, with how completely and utterly besotted these two were with each other, she felt confident that Viktor wouldn’t do anything he thought might screw up his chances of being able to marry Yūri when he turned eighteen, as opposed to having to wait until Yūri was twenty to do so without parental consent, so her brother’s virtue was safe for now.

Even if he quite obviously wasn’t a stranger to the more mature side of life, it was the principle of the thing, okay?

~

“Oh, by the way…” Yūri smiled nervously at her, obviously expecting her to not react well to whatever he was going to say.

It was silent for a moment, and she was forced to urge him on. “Yes…?”

“When we’re in Detroit…” Yūri breathed out slowly, and then raised his volume a little as he seemed to realize that just saying it would make this end quicker. “Viktor will be supporting us, financially.”

Her eyes widened as she took in his words, and before she could formulate a response, Viktor continued.

“See, in our eyes we share ownership over basically _everything,_ from Makkachin and Vicchan (here he glanced at Yūri in question for some reason, and Yūri nodded his agreement) to our bank accounts, if Yūri had one at the moment that is.” The Russian explained. “If you’re stuck working full-time trying to pay your way alone, you won’t have as much time to attend classes and do your schoolwork, if you decide to attend university this time around, and I’d prefer Yūri is as comfortable as humanly possible…”

“Wait a moment.” She held up a finger, ignoring the main point of the man’s reasoning to focus on how he’d worded something. “You said if I decide to go to college ‘this time around.’ Did I not go originally?”

She was just curious, having been so indecisive on the matter for the past year, but the way Yūri and Viktor glanced at each other as they tried to figure out how to answer told her that there was something more to it.

“Just spit it out.” She rolled her eyes a bit.

“You didn’t.” Yūri said softly, head ducking down. “You told me years later that you kind of regretted not continuing, but by the time you’d considered changing your mind I was eighteen and headed to America to study and train abroad, so mom and dad needed your help at the onsen. If I had known you’d been second-guessing…”

“Don’t you dare.” She clapped a hand over his mouth to stop the nonsensical babble from spilling out. “It was my decision, and I’m damn sure I supported you following your dream whole-heartedly. If I didn’t, then that would’ve been on _me_ , not you.”

Yūri smiled shakily at her words, and she removed her hand, glad that he hadn’t licked her like he used to do whenever she did that to him.

“Thanks, neechan.” He muttered.

They weren’t the most openly affectionate pair of siblings in the world, despite being perfectly willing to go to the ends of the earth for each other, so they left it at that.

Viktor nudged Yūri gently with a gentle smile, as if to say that he’d told Yūri so, and Mari wouldn’t be very surprised if he had.

It was nice to see how whole-heartedly Viktor loved Yūri despite knowing of his anxiety issues, not that Mari had ever doubted her brother would find someone who would love him despite (or maybe in spite of) them.

“Guess I’d better mentally prepare to attend classes, then.” Mari gave a sigh.

“Good thing you decided so quickly, registration for the fall semester ends next week.” Yūri gave her an innocent smile.

‘You little shit.’ Mari thought, amused.

Maybe Viktor wasn’t the one she should look out for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3


	16. Georgi's Musings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :D

One of the first things that Georgi noticed when he stepped into the room was that Viktor was working on his routine for next season, something he could already tell was more heartfelt than most of the other teen’s previous performances had been.

The second thing was the crowd of tittering girls half-hidden behind the lockers staring at him.

‘This won’t end well.’ Georgi thought to himself as he sat down to lace on his skates, nodding to Viktor in greeting when the other decided to take a water break, already taking out his phone as he greedily drank so he could check for any new text messages from his mysterious ‘friend.’

He was proven right when one of the girls called out to the new Olympic champion, not even letting him set his water bottle down before zeroing in on him.

“Oi, Nikiforov, now that someone’s managed to thaw your icy cold heart, how about you and I have some fun tonight?” one of the girls (Georgi thought she may be an ice dancer training under one of the other coaches, but he wasn’t sure) purred with a wink.

Georgi grimaced at her shamelessness. She was probably meant to be on one of the other rinks _training_ , for Pete’s sake!

“There’s not a force on this earth, nor heaven or hell, that would make me betray my love in such a way.” Viktor murmured, not even deigning to look at her as he focused mostly on his phone. “If you persist with your unwelcome flirtations, I’ll be forced to pursue legal action for harassment.”

The girl’s eyes widened at his immediate and harsh response, and she swallowed nervously, trying to figure out what to say.

“Tch.” She huffed after a moment, seeming to regain her confidence. “Your loss. Guess you’re still the heartless Ice King after all.”

“No, I just have no intention of getting involved with anyone, much less the Wicked Witch of the West.” Viktor muttered with a soft snort, too quietly for the girl to hear, though Georgi did.

He glanced up in surprise as the other man snorted at his words, and smiled a bit sheepishly.

“Sorry you had to see that.” He apologized with a sigh. “I’ve learned that letting people down nicely just makes them think you’re playing hard to get.”

“Noted.” Georgi nodded as he remembered that that was how Viktor’s first girlfriend had managed to force him into a relationship just so Viktor could get her off his back long enough to figure out a more permanent solution, though luckily it had ended quickly.

“Anyway, so you’re in a relationship, huh?” Georgi hummed. “Since when? I’ve seen you turn down a lot of dates to focus on skating, but now you’re practically attached to your phone.”

So much so that one day he'd actually stopped practice for an hour because he got a call, and when Yakov demanded to know what was going afterwards he'd simply stated that he had something far more important than practice to take care of.

To those who knew him, that statement had been practically earth-shattering, but damned if Viktor hadn't meant it.

He wondered if he was overstepping, since he’d only known Viktor for a year or so, and like the attempted homewrecker had implied, the other teen tended to act…cold and detached, to say the least.

However, that was clearly not all there was to the man, Georgi realized, recognizing the expression in the other’s eyes, the soft smile as he glanced back down at his phone.

It was no wonder Viktor had put up such a façade, with not only the expectations heaped on him by all of Russia but people approaching him like the girl just had.

Then of course there was also the supposed family drama, but Georgi wasn’t one for gossip, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to ask.

“Yeah.” Viktor sighed with another tiny smile, eyes sparkling happily as he brought his phone to his heart and kept it there. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with him.”

“You’ve proposed already?!” Georgi gasped quietly, turning wide-eyed to the blue-eyed skater. “How come we haven’t heard anything about this? Does Yakov know?”

“I haven’t _technically_ proposed, but that’s because I want to do it in person and when I visited him last week we had a chaperone.” Viktor sighed forlornly, though he picked right back up. “We know we’re going to get married, though. We’ve been teasing each other about who will manage to surprise the other with a ring first.”

Georgi mulled his words over in his mind, wondering at the implications.

“He’s…not here in Saint Petersburg, is he?” he questioned. “And is you needed a chaperone…is he younger than you?”

“Mhm.” Viktor nodded. “Yūri lives in Japan, though he’s moving to America with his sister Mari soon to study and train abroad.”

‘So that’s where Viktor went.’ Georgi realized.

He was about to repeat the question about the other boy’s age, but paused.

Viktor had just said that this ‘Yūri’ guy was moving to America, yet seemed to accept the long-distance nature of their relationship completely.

If they’d needed a chaperone, and the guy was moving to the other side of the world with a _sibling,_ not by himself, then he was probably still underage.

For Viktor to be so entirely willing to wait for him, not taking up an admittedly beautiful (in physical appearance if not inwardly) girl on her offer to sleep with her…

That was…really sweet, actually.

“Well, I wish you the best with that.” Georgi decided after a moment, patting the day-older skater on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Georgi.” Viktor grinned up at him, and Georgi hoped he could finally develop a friendship with his now less emotionally detached rinkmate.

Though the girl had meant it as a put down, it seemed that this Yūri really had thawed the Ice King’s heart.

Georgi only hoped there wouldn’t be reason for it to freeze up again.

He also resolved to ask more about the Japanese guy (was he a skater?) when they had more time outside of practice, a decision he would eventually come to regret once he realized that Viktor, once he started, would be hard-pressed to stop talking about him.

God forbid he ever become such a romantic sap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3
> 
> Note:
> 
> The call Georgi remembered Viktor abandoning practice for was when Yuuko called him to try and help talk Yuuri down from his panic attack a few chapters ago. Viktor doesn't see that as anything for Yuuri to be ashamed of, but he knows that Yuuri wouldn't appreciate him telling anyone, so he refused to give any details, despite Yakov making him run suicides out of frustration (which the man later regretted once he calmed down since it seemed to be an actual emergency, causing him to let Viktor have the next day off.)


	17. Junior Grand Prix: Courchevel 1/2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Considering I'd made his first qualifier barely a footnote in the first story (admittedly because I was impatient to get him to Detroit), this is going to be completely, utterly new. I watched the 2014 Jr. Grand Prix Courchevel video for the ladies' short program to get a feel for the flow of things, so hopefully it's a bit more accurate in that regard as well.
> 
> Enjoy! :D

Yūri hummed as he scanned through the information he’d been sent regarding his newly announced Junior Grand Prix series assignments.

Japan didn’t have very many high-level figure skaters at the moment, so Yūri’s silver at the junior nationals last year had been enough to be granted a place despite not having been able to participate in the Junior World Championships last season.

Come to think about it, he should probably ask Minako to fill in as his coach for this next season, since he doubted he’d be able to arrange for Celestino to take him on before December at the earliest, and not having a coach made things very difficult for competitive skaters.

His qualifying competitions were in Courchevel, France and Mexico City, Mexico. Unsurprisingly, that was the same as last time.

The language barrier shouldn’t be nearly as much of a problem this time, Yūri thought to himself as he relaxed his shoulders a bit. A lot of people in the Netherlands had at least some proficiency in English, and Yūri himself was somewhat passable in speaking French due to Viktor’s family.

He tapped his thigh thoughtfully as he considered how this was going to work, before realizing that it wasn’t really up to him (it was hard to get used to not having as much control of his life now that he was a minor again) and got up to talk with his parents.

~

In the end, it was decided that Yūri, Mari, and Minako would fly out to France for his competition (which ran from August 23rd to the 26th), after which Mari and Yūri would continue on to the United States where they would have a chance to settle in before starting classes on September 5th.

During that week they had arranged for Yūri to take some placement tests at his new school to determine if he was proficient enough in the language to take regular classes or if other arrangements should be made, but Yūri wasn’t worried about that.

Mostly, though, he just hoped that he would do well enough that they would consider moving him up a level or two.

He might have been forced back into high school, but as someone who had earned both a Master’s degree in Dance and a Bachelor’s in Business in his lifetime, as well as helping his and Viktor’s students with their own schoolwork…well, he didn’t want to get too bored.

He didn’t mention his hopes to Mari, however, because she herself was concerned about whether or not she would be able to follow along with her own coursework. She didn’t have Yūri’s experience living abroad, and even though he knew she didn’t really have much to worry about when it came to language barriers, since Minako had taught them well, he knew that his assurances wouldn’t help much.

Absentmindedly he wondered if this was what Viktor felt like whenever Yūri doubted himself, and felt a surge of gratitude mix with the ever-constant love he felt when he thought of his husband.

~

“Welcome, everyone, to the Men’s short program here in Courchevel, the very first ISU Junior Grand Pix of 2006-2007 season.” An announcer said in English from nearby, camera focused on the skaters as a Frenchwoman announced the skaters by name and country. “The second group of men have taken to the ice for their warm up…”

Minako and Mari watched from the stands as Yūri shrugged off his coat, revealing his outfit and going gliding across the ice calmly as he ignored the other skaters around him, focusing on familiarizing himself with the rink as he idly spun and did lower-level jumps whenever the urge struck.

Mari knew that her brother was intentionally avoiding practicing his step sequences, since that was what he intended to wow the judges with, and from Mari had seen from the last few weeks he didn’t really need the practice anyway.

Well, practice in general was always needed to keep up his skills, but chances were he wouldn’t be able to improve upon them even further (they were already at the highest level, after all), so best focus on his jumps.

“The skating order for the second group…” the man continued in his commentary. “The starting skater will be…”

He listed the participants, as well as the panel of judges and other essential staff members, but they tuned him out as they curiously watched the skaters.

Yūri, they noticed as the Frenchwoman warned the skaters that there was one minute left for the warm up, suddenly went into an elegant doughnut spin, though they both knew that it wasn’t actually part of his program.

“It’s hard to rank spins based on level of difficulty, since everyone has different strengths.” Minako whispered to Mari as they watched a couple of the other skaters side-eye Yūri. “But the doughnut spin and Biellmann both require a high level of flexibility and his skill with them is comparable, so using one during practice instead should still be sufficient to ensure he’ll have stretched enough to be able to pull off the other spin later on.”

“The others don’t look too happy about it.” Mari muttered back as the skaters were asked to get off the ice.

“Ah, they’re probably a bit jealous of his flexibility.” Minako smiled slightly, a proud glint in her eyes. “Only to be expected from my little danseur. Those spins are more often seen in ladies skating because of the flexibility required, so it’s not too common to see a male skater pull them off. Still, they are in the junior division, and I’m sure more of the younger ones in the series are limber enough. If he manages to keep it up once he gets to seniors, however…oh, they’re going to be in trouble. Nikiforov is going to have to watch out.”

“Oh, he’ll be watching, alright.” Mari breathed out quietly, low enough that Minako didn’t hear her.

The first skater didn’t leave much of an impression, clearly talented but also young and probably unused to larger competitions, but then it was Yūri’s turn.

“Well, at least he didn’t have to go first.” Mari said dryly, and Minako chuckled, knowing that her student was almost always drawn to go first and how much he hated it. Still, this time not only was he skating second in his group, but he was put in the second group, though she wondered how knowing how some of the others had scored would affect his skating…

“Next up is Yūri Katsuki from Japan, born in Hasetsu.” The announcer spoke, mispronouncing his name by not only not drawing out the ‘u’ in Yūri but also pronouncing their surname as ‘Kat-soo-key.’ “This is his first Junior Grand Prix season.”

Minako patted her companion’s arm as she cringed at the butchering of her family name, but Yūri himself didn’t so much as blink, taking his position on the ice. Her eyes squinted at him as she tried to figure out why the pose seemed familiar, but she didn’t understand until the music started.

See, Yūri hadn’t let her actually see his programs in their entirety, just let her watch and help during his step and choreographic sequences and left the technical help to Nishigori’s mother, and this was her first time seeing it.

Now she knew why he’d been so secretive, maybe worried about her reaction, but the only thing she felt aside from pride and admittedly a bit of nostalgia was love.

Her little danseur had taken the music from her last professional performance as a ballerina and created a program that, while clearly inspired by her rendition, also included his own flare.

“Oh, Yūri…” she breathed out, tears in her eyes as he flowed into a step sequence every bit as graceful as any of the moves she had ever danced herself, flowing into a triple axel while avoiding the pitfall of slowing down or speeding up as he moved into the jump, which would only help his score.

The new scoring system, which had been put in place after this year’s Olympics when a bribery scandal was brought up, was confusing, but Minako was slowly getting used to it.

She wasn’t sure how Yūri would do with this new method, since his presentation components had always been stronger than the technical elements and the new method’s structure didn’t leave as much room for that, but if his performance now was anything to go by he’d do just fine.

He captured the audience’s attention with his every move, and when he finished with the Biellmann spin that Minako and Mari had known was coming, they blinked their way back to awareness and cheered as loudly as they were capable of.

Yūri blinked in surprise at the noise, having been just as absorbed in the performance as they were, but smiled fondly at them before bowing to the judges and making his way to the Kiss and Cry, where Minako rushed to meet him, skate guards in hand.

“You skated so beautifully, my little danseur.” Minako whispered as she hugged him tightly, propriety be damned, before ushering him to sit down. “You honor me. Thank you.”

The phrasing was a little more formal than she was used to speaking to him with, but she felt that the situation deserved it, and his happy and surprised flush was more than worth it.

“I’m glad.” Yūri murmured back with a smile, and Minako noticed the lack of ‘you’re welcome’. She knew him well enough to know that it was not out of any rudeness on his part, but more likely because he thought it wasn’t worth her gratitude, something she was saddened by. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, after all.”

That…was probably true, admittedly, though she could mention that he also likely wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for his little crush on a certain Russian skater.

Regardless, she had indeed been the one to encourage him to try skating, curious how her little danseur’s skill in dance would translate to the ice, and hadn’t been disappointed. The fact that he’d managed to make a pair of friends at the rink only made her encourage him more, and she didn’t regret it in the slightest even though his focus had shifted from dance.

“All I did was get you on the ice.” She chided gently as they waited for his score. “You did the rest yourself, Yūri.”

Before he could offer a reply (which she was sure would be self-deprecating as usual), the Frenchwoman began the score announcement for them, and Minako waited with bated breath, not realizing that Yūri could understand the words just as easily as she herself could.

The number flashed on one of the screens above the rink, not seeming real until she saw it with her own eyes instead of listening to the number.

81.52 for the junior men’s short program, much less his first. He was so, _so close_ to—

“Yūri!” she grinned excitedly, tears streaming down her face as she hugged him again. “Oh, little danseur. You’re going to break Nikiforov’s record in no time!”

Contrary to what she would have expected, he looked her straight in the eye, and with a cheeky little grin, nodded his head.

“I’m planning on it.” He assured her.

It came as no surprise to anyone that Yūri remained in first once the short program had ended, and would be skating last for the free skate.

Nikiforov had better watch out, indeed, because Katsuki Yūri was going to overwrite his scores.

~

“Vicchan!” Yūri grinned as his puppy jumped onto his lap when they got back to the hotel, happily hugging the toy poodle to his chest. Minako had suggested that they send him ahead to Detroit and arrange for someone to take care of him until he and Mari got there, but Yūri had refused immediately, and she had quickly given up when she saw the stubborn determination in his eyes.

“Good job, little brother.” Mari ruffled his hair as she passed by to her own bed, it having been decided that the siblings would share a room and Minako would be across the hall. “Your phone hasn’t shut up since you got off the ice.”

“Yeah, that would be Viktor.” Yūri hummed. “He’s going to mention how I almost touched down on my triple Lutz.”

“Eh?” Mari blinked, pausing in her unpacking of a new shirt. “I didn’t notice.”

“He did.” Yūri said with so much confidence that Mari had no choice to believe him.

Still, she wasn’t so sure that Viktor’s incessant messages were just to critique Yūri, like he seemed to think, but also to gush over his beautiful performance, quite sure that Viktor’s focus would be drawn more to that than such a minor flaw.

When Yūri opened the first message a moment later, a pink flush quickly spread from his neck to his ears, and Mari knew that she’d been right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3


	18. Junior Grand Prix: Courchevel 2/2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :D

The next day, Mari found her brother sitting on the balcony rail, leaning against the wall as he fiddles with the hem of his coat.

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous.” She said with a raised eyebrow once she got close enough to grab her brother to keep him from falling if he lost his balance in surprise.

He didn’t, though, just turned to look at her with a dry smile.

“I’m almost always nervous to some extent, Mari.” He said with a delicate shrug, looking back out at the moon. “That didn’t change just because I got older.”

“Guess not.” She hummed, leaning her back against the same railing as she stared thoughtfully at the balcony doors in the opposite direction her brother was looking. “Will you be okay?”

“Most likely.” Yūri shrugged. “I mean, this is my first major competition since coming back, and it had been a long time since I’d competed last, but it’s familiar. I just…I developed a habit back then that really helps to calm me down when I need it, and I’m not able to do it right now.”

“What, kiss Viktor?” Mari snorted.

Yūri smiled wistfully, looking down at his right hand, though she didn’t see it. “Yeah, more or less.”

~

The next day, he skated last, watching everyone else’s performances and calculating what he needed to get in order to guarantee his spot on the podium, if not first place.

Sure, he was _technically_ the most experienced skater here, but some of the older competitors included quads in their programs, so despite his high presentation components score, he did have to take it at least somewhat seriously.

Viktor would have disagreed, but he had more faith in Yūri than he himself did.

He got into his starting position, and right before the music started, he brought up his right hand and pressed his ring finger to his lips for a light kiss, though no one but Viktor would realize what he was doing.

They might not have their rings yet, but the symbolism was still there.

~

From his own cold rink in Saint Petersburg, Viktor mirrored his love’s gesture with tears in his eyes as Yūri flowed through one of his impossibly beautiful routines.

He did notice that Yūri had fixed the problem in his jump the day prior, which was good, but honestly Viktor was more concerned about just indulging in the masterful performance than looking for any of the miniscule flaws there might be.

It probably wasn’t very responsible of him, as an experienced coach (especially when it came to Yūri), but when had anyone ever accused him of being _responsible_?

~

Yakov’s eyebrow twitched furiously as his most troublesome student completely disregarded his demand to get back on the ice.

After a moment, though, he noticed that Viktor wasn’t _ignoring_ him, as such, but instead was so utterly absorbed in whatever he was looking at that he literally didn’t hear him.

Walking up behind him to see what had caught the boy’s attention, Yakov raised an eyebrow when he saw that the teen’s attention was focused entirely on the ISU’s livestream of one of the junior grand prix qualifiers. Courchevel, if he remembered the timing correctly.

Not only was it odd for the brat to be watching one of the juniors’ events while he was meant to be practicing for his own, but…

Viktor didn’t pay a sufficient amount of attention to his _own_ competitors (though he was getting better with Georgi, which made Yakov’s job slightly easier), so why look at the skater on screen with so much focus?

Then Yakov focus his own attention more on the skater in question, who, based on the song playing, had likely just entered the second half of his program, and his eyes widened.

The skater’s technical elements weren’t entirely flawless, but they would be more than enough to hold up in even the senior division, and the presentation aspects of his performance were above what Yakov thought even Viktor was capable of.

There was also the fact that he’d apparently back-loaded his higher-level jumps so he could get the ten percent points bonus, which considering the length of the program, said a lot for his stamina.

As the pair watched what the announcer declared to be a Japanese skater finish his program and bow to the judges and audience before heading off the ice, Yakov chanced a glance at his student, who was sporting a beaming smile and bright eyes.

“Yūri won!” Viktor cried happily before the score had even been announced, though a moment later he was proven to be correct.

Yakov glanced at the given score with a slight wariness as the boy was declared to have placed first in the competition, since he’d been the last to skate. Only a few points shy of the junior’s world record that Viktor had held ever since he’d set it his last competition before moving up to the senior division.

The Japanese skater’s score would have been impressive even in the senior division, which was saying something considering the fact that he’d left quads out of his program (a smart choice for a fourteen year old, Yakov approved as the boy’s age flashed across the screen) and the senior programs had different requirements.

His attention was brought back to Viktor as the boy sighed happily, switching over to his private messenger application, and Yakov’s eyes widened further at when he saw that he was sending the text to someone named ‘Yūri.’

“This skater.” He said, admittedly feeling a bit of vindictive pleasure as his student jumped in surprise and cast him a startled look, not having noticed his presence. “You know him?”

“Yes.” Viktor agreed with a fond smile down at his phone. “Katsuki Yūri of Japan.”

Yakov hummed as the boy typed out an enthusiastic message of congratulations to the other skater in English. “When did you meet?”

“We’ve…known each other a while.” Viktor hedged, avoiding the question.

He took note of the slight tenseness of Viktor’s shoulders, and sighed. “He’s the reason you spent a few days gallivanting in Tokyo, isn’t he? Your excuse was as weak as Georgi’s alcohol tolerance.”

Viktor pouted, looking a little offended at the comparison, but nodded, and Yakov didn’t notice the oddly relieved look in his eyes when Yakov didn’t question further how he’d met the younger boy.

“You’re going to have some competition when he advances.” Yakov muttered gruffly, recalling the fluidity and grace the junior skater had exhibited.

Considering Viktor was currently considered the best in the world, partly due to his performance in Turin, this was a true compliment coming from him, and Viktor realized that.

“I know!” he beamed again, eyes just as bright as they had been earlier when they’d been watching the routine. “I can’t wait to be on the same ice as him.”

Yakov wondered at his phrasing, since it sounded almost like Viktor wanted to skate _with_ the other boy more than _against_ him, but put it out of his mind.

Years later, he would look back on this moment and shake his head at his own naivety, but for now he lived in blissful ignorance.

~

When Yūri finally got a bit of privacy, begging off from the few reporters that had been bombarding him with the typical questions—particularly about his almost record-breaking score, he wasn’t surprised to see a message from Viktor.

The first was in English, but a few minutes later a far more in-depth and embarrassingly loving and praising message in their usual mix of English, Russian, and Japanese explained that Yakov had been looking over his shoulder as he sent the first one.

He wondered what Yakov was thinking right about now, since he now knew Viktor had a connection with a junior skater from another country.

Hopefully given their current ages and the physical distance between them he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it, because one thing that Yūri and Viktor were _not_ (and never had been) regarding their love was subtle.

Still, he would worry about that later.

Right now he needed to call his parents, and then Yūko and Takeshi (if they weren’t already at the onsen), because they would never let him live it down if he didn’t even bother to call them after winning his ‘first’ international competition, qualifier or not.

One thing that struck him during the call, though, was the fact that they sounded just as excited, happy, and proud of him in his memories of calls after competitions that hadn’t gone so well as they did now that he’d placed gold in the ‘first’ international competition of his career.

The insecurity he’d always felt about needing to do well to keep them proud, as if he needed to earn their love in support, would likely never go away entirely, but times like these were usually more than enough to keep them at bay.

Still too hyped up to relax so soon after skating, Yūri grinned as an idea came to him.

~

A short time later, as Yūko was idly checking her social media accounts, she came across a surprising photo that immediately made her giggle and coo at the adorableness.

It was a picture of Vicchan, tongue out and looking as cute as the day Yūri had gotten him, with the gold medal Yūri had just won hanging from his neck, with a caption about Vicchan earning gold for being the cutest dog in the world.

As if that wasn’t amazing enough, Viktor Nikiforov had posted his own photos of Makkachin in retaliation, though the Russian seemed very torn as to whether or not he should defend his own dog’s ‘honor’ and claim the title for the larger poodle, or agree that Vicchan, the apparent ‘eternal pupper’, won.

Personally, Yūko-chan thought that Vicchan’s smaller size won out, though Makkachin was indeed a gift to the world.

Still, she was more focused on the fact that instead of freaking out or isolating himself after a competition (regardless of how well he’d done) as Yūri was wont to do, instead he was playing with his dog and sharing the cuteness overload with the world.

She’d been worried for him when he quietly told her and Takeshi-kun that he was leaving for Detroit, and it had taken a while to accept that one of her oldest friends was going off to the other side of the world, even to follow his dream, but seeing this, she realized that maybe this would be good for him.

~

Mari tried not to snort, holding the gold medal Yūri had entrusted her with tightly in her hands as her brother skated his exhibition program to Journey to the Past from the movie Anastasia. The lyrical version, too, since there were no rules against it for exhibition skates.

It was just like her brother, she thought, to choose a song about a Russian story. Most who knew him would think it was just because he was a Viktor fanboy, but luckily she was close enough to see that he was also hinting at their jump in time. It probably helped that there was a dog in that scene, too.

Honestly, it was pretty impulsive and reckless of him to do something that would hint at what had happened, but she supposed that the public hadn’t yet had a chance to cement their opinions of him, so any oddities could be explained away as him just growing up.

She was so proud, not just of his talent but of his daring.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3
> 
> So, has anyone else seem the 'hardcore Yuuri' trend appearing here and there on tumblr, emphasizing Yuuri's marshmallowy softness but also odd badassary in various ways (getting over his grief/depression because it bored him, as stated to Yuuko in canon, saying the competition where he smashed headfirst into a wall was him most fun to date, etc.?) I love that concept.
> 
> Anyway, no promises I'll be updating before next week. My birthday is on Sunday, and I just want to relax and read during the parts I'm not spending it with my family.


	19. Arriving in Detroit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your birthday wishes, everyone! <3
> 
> Enjoy!

When Yūri and Mari finally pulled up in front of their new home, after two flights and a blessedly short taxi ride, it was to see a much more luxurious apartment building than they had anticipated.

Yūri muttered under his breath, slightly exasperated at his husband and even annoyed at himself for having thought Viktor would pick somewhere less ostentatious.

Really, after all this time, he should have known better.

“Yūri.” He turned to his sister, who was staring at the building with slightly wide eyes, too tired to try and maintain her usual deadpan expression, not that he could blame her. “What is this?”

“Our new home.” He answered succinctly, turning to pay and tip the taxi cab driver as the man removed their suitcases from the trunk, heading towards the front entrance, where he keyed in the passcode to allow them entrance.

Honestly, he should have known when Viktor sent him that.

He was just lucky Viktor hadn’t thought to get them a place with a doorman and security guards (or, if he had, hadn’t managed to find one.)

It wasn’t surprising to find that the interior was just as extra as the exterior of the building, and Yūri wondered for a moment if part of the reason Viktor had chosen such a place was to help inspire Mari, since she would be studying interior design.

No doubt part of it was his own Extra™ attitude, but Yūri supposed this place would give Mari an idea of what to do if she ever had to design something outlandishly luxurious, so whatever.

Their apartment was on the second floor, so Vicchan wouldn’t have to struggle up many steps but also so that it would be harder for anyone to climb through a window to their apartment if anyone found out where he lived (Yurio had had that problem once, so Yūri admitted there was something to it) when he got more well-known.

Passing a fully-equipped exercise room and indoor pool and sauna made him shake his head, but to be fair it would be pretty helpful having them so close.

Yūri sighed quietly as they stepped into their new apartment, setting Vicchan down from where he’d been contently resting in his arms and letting him explore their new environment.

“It could be worse.” He admitted after a long moment, looking around them. “I’ll scold Viktor after I get some sleep.”

With that, he waved towards his sister, and headed towards the hallway to find his room, not daring to look around too much yet.

‘Could be worse, he says.’ Mari thought to herself, trying not to gape. There was a fucking _chandelier_ in the dining room! ‘This must be costing a fortune…’

After peeking into the kitchen and seeing marble and stainless steel everything, as well as a huge jacuzzi and separate shower in the bathroom, she decided that Yūri had the right idea, and went to take a nap so she could get some sleep and absorb her new living situation.

~

The next day, Yūri and Mari had an appointment with one of the administration staff members at Yūri’s new high school. They had done much of the required paperwork already by faxing it in, but there was also the matter of taking some placement tests to ensure that, with the presumed language barrier, he would be able to join the general classes or to make other arrangements if needed.

Yūri actually wasn’t worried about that, having survived university the first time around with little issue and having only grown in his English skills since then, but he did ask the woman (after completing the tests) if it might be possible to join the eleventh graders as opposed to the tenth graders, which is where his age would have put him.

She was hesitant, glancing at Mari to try and figure out her thoughts on the matter, since she _was_ his legal guardian right now, but when she didn’t see any hint of disagreement agreed to look into the matter to see if it would be possible, provided his scores were sufficient enough. He would find out before the make- up orientation day in a few days, at least, since that’s when he’d be getting his class schedule.

There was also the matter of having to be absent for competitions, and he had long since provided a list of the dates where he knew he’d be out of the country. The school’s attendance policy required for a school administrator to approve the days he’d be gone as excused, since there would be so many, but his preparedness in letting them know ahead of time would go far in allowing his teachers to give him his work ahead of time.

Though she didn’t mention it, she had actually watched his performances on the live stream, having been curious when she’d been told of his extenuating circumstances, and privately thought that being allowed to do his work later (or earlier, as he’d proposed) was a small price to pay for him to be able to continue wowing audiences.

Her opinion was only solidified when she found out that he had come so close to breaking the current world record for the junior division, and based on what she’d seen from him so far, the glint of determination in his eyes, she would be surprised if he didn’t beat it soon.

Still, that had no bearing on the current situation, and she switched focuses seamlessly, the young adults (she’d worked around teenagers long enough to know that some really were closer to adults than children at this point in their life, and this boy was certainly one of those) not noticing her brief lapse in attention.

~

After that, the siblings went to the ice rink that Yūri was temporarily making his headquarters until his coaching situation was worked out, once that he knew Phichit frequented when he wanted to skate without Celestino hovering.

If his plan worked, he would eventually run into the younger version of his best friend, and be able to develop the ‘epic friendship’ they had once had.

It would have been easier, he admitted, to just go to the rink Celestino used, but he knew that the man would likely try and interject his way into Yūri’s training even without a contract between them, if only to try and keep a junior skater without a proper instructor from hurting himself. However, he wanted to have an opportunity to settle in before trying to get Celestino to coach him again, so for now this would have to do.

Mari had cringed when she passed over her credit card, which was attached to one of Viktor’s accounts (Yūri had one as well, but they thought it would look stranger for him to be the one paying) to pre-pay for some ice time for Yūri, appreciating more than ever how expensive figure skating was. Ice Castle back home was more than willing to compromise with Yūri when it came to rink fees, but they had no such advantage here.

Yūri was almost tempted to get on the ice after they were finished, but he hadn’t brought his skates with him, and rental skates always felt weird since they weren’t fitted to him specifically, so they moved on.

Next was a dance studio just a few blocks from their apartment, where Yūri was able to rent out a private room to practice for a discounted amount, since he was a student. It was only for an hour at a time, three times a week, but he figured he could practice somewhere else or buy more time if he felt it necessary.

Later on, once they’d gotten home, Mari groaned as she collapsed onto the couch.

“What?” Yūri blinked down at her curiously.

“Long day.” She grunted. “Too much English.”

He snorted at that. “Well, that’s something you’re going to have to get accustomed to.”

Luckily, he managed to duck out of the way of the pillow she tossed at his head, snickering as he escaped to his room.

~

A few days later, Yūri found himself once again at his new school, though this time Mari had dropped him off instead of coming with him, since she wasn’t required to be there and obviously Yūri could take care of his own affairs.

High school orientations differed, depending on where you were, but among the list today was having his photo taken so they could print out his student identification card, as well as getting his schedule, locker assignment, and textbooks.

Today was the make-up day, for those who hadn’t been able to attend the orientations earlier in the week for their grades, so there were less people than there otherwise would have been, which Yūri appreciated.

Granted, that meant that he did miss out on the tables the student clubs and sports teams had set up for the other days, but he wouldn’t have time for any of that anyway, so it didn’t particularly matter.

As it turned out, the school had agreed to enroll him as a junior as per his request, and as such he was able to speak with some of his new teachers in order to request to be allowed to record their lectures to make sure he wouldn’t miss anything in class, particularly during competitions.

Most of them had no issue with the idea, everything considered, but there were a few hold-outs until they remembered that, as an international transfer, he might be asking so that he would have a chance to check his translations later if there was an issue caused by the language barrier.

Yūri wasn’t sure how to feel about that, considering he was sure that he wouldn’t have a problem with that, but being allowed to record and later transcribe the information they gave when he wasn’t there to hear it himself would help with his grades, so he let it go.

~

A few days later, Yūri went through his new backpack to take inventory, making sure that he wasn’t missing anything.

Notebooks, plenty of pens and mechanical pencils, calculator and graphic paper for math, his uniform for gym (a light gray t-shirt and black shorts), his recorder…

He’d already put his textbooks in his locker during orientation, so all that was left was his cell phone, which he was intending to use as his alarm so it was still on his bedside table, and the bento currently in the fridge.

Oh! He had indeed almost forgotten something…

See, their apartment was nearby the school, so Yūri hadn’t felt the need to go by bus, especially since he’d also be visiting the dance studio and ice rink daily, and had therefore purchased a bike after seeing the bike rack at his school, ensuring it had reflectors on the front and back just in case he was ever out at night coming home.

Muttering to himself, he went to his drawer to grab the bike chain and lock he’d purchased.

It would’ve sucked to have his new bicycle stolen the first day it was used, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3
> 
> Note:
> 
> When it comes to American schooling, the ages correlating to what grade/year you’re in can actually vary, depending on when your birthday is and if you’d been held back or advanced (though usually that happens sooner in your schooling than high school). For example, I was always a year younger than most of my classmates due to my birthday having been right after the cutoff in the district we lived at the time, but my parents appealing to the school district to let me start Kindergarten early.
> 
> actually, it's debatable whether Yuuri would be a freshman or sophomore at his current age, but he'll be turning 15, and I was still a couple weeks shy of 13 when I entered my freshman year, so I'm going more off my own experiences, I guess.
> 
> Heck, it doesn't particularly matter what year he's in, officially. Most schools would allow him to graduate even as a junior as long as he met the requirements. He'd just have to work around the required 4 years of some subjects, but taking advanced classes with more credits or doing something like summer school to get ahead could help with that if it had been necessary.
> 
> Grade order is (typically) as follows…
> 
> 9th Grade > Freshman year  
> 10th Grade > Sophomore year  
> 11th Grade > Junior Year (grade he tested into)  
> 12th Grade > Senior Year


	20. First Day of School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :D

Viktor sighed, waiting for a decent time to call Yūri before his first day of high school (in this timeline, at least). Here he was, already well into his training for the day, while Yūri was likely still fast asleep.

Damn time zones.

Yakov brought him out of his lament as he dropped a decent-sized pile of paper on the table next to Viktor’s lunch (which he’d brought in the form of a bento, to everyone’s bemusement).

“What are these?” Viktor said, more out of habit than actually wanting to know the answer, having a fairly good idea already.

“Sponsorship and endorsement offers.” The man said gruffly. “From people who haven’t yet had the opportunity to realize just how much of a pain in the neck you can be.”

Viktor considered for a moment whether or not he should feel insulted by that, but after a moment he admitted that if anyone here had the right to say something like that, it was Yakov.

“Fair enough.” He acknowledged, left hand going to flick idly through the pages as his right hand continued to shovel food into his mouth. He hummed as he skimmed through them and sorted them into two piles as Yakov waited not so patiently for his thoughts on the matter.

“I’ll consider these ones.” He gestured to the smaller pile.

Yakov’s eye twitched, and he was about to scold the skater for seeming to dismiss so many of the offers so easily, but then he continued.

“I’ll send the other companies thank you letters for their consideration, so hopefully they won’t be too offended to reach out again in the future.” Viktor hummed as he thumbed through the ones he would be declining. “I’ll have to do some research on the ones I haven’t heard of just in case, since I don’t want to endorse something I’m not familiar with already.”

That, Yakov was forced to admit, was decent enough reasoning to take some of the wind out of his sails. “What about the modeling ones? Those are usually your favorites.”

“There are still quite a few in here.” Viktor gestured towards his pile of approved offers. “The others sound like they’re asking for something a little too suggestive, though.”

“Since when do you care about suggestiveness?” Yakov snorted, thinking back to the costume the brat had commissioned a few years back that had been inspired by lingerie and bondage, of all things.

More than a few gray hairs had been the result of that particular debacle, and Yakov hadn’t quite forgiven the boy for it.

“Since I fell in love.” Viktor sighed happily, and Yakov’s jaw dropped, not that the brat noticed the drop of composure as he continued with his statement. “I doubt he’d complain, of course, but we’re more than a little possessive of each other, so he’d probably appreciate it if less skin was shown to the world.”

Well, that was the easiest explanation for Yakov to understand, at least.

In reality, Yūri’s own form of possessiveness actually made it a bit of a toss-up. Either he’d want to keep Viktor to himself, or he’d be perfectly happy showing him off, all the while knowing that Viktor—mind, body, and soul—would always belong to him.

Yakov scowled irritably as the brat’s eyes glazed over, likely thinking of this boy he fancied himself in love with, though personally Yakov gave it three days before Viktor got bored and moved on.

He never could have imagined, at this point, that the ‘fledgling’ relationship would stand the test of time (in a far more literal sense than he realized), and that Viktor had indeed found someone who he wanted to spend the rest of eternity with.

~

Yūri’s alarm was set to go off at 5:30, so he’d have plenty of time to not only get ready but get in a quick work out before school.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was for Viktor to call the minute prior, having predicted, after years of early mornings, what time Yūri would eventually decide wasn’t too horrifically early, considering his new schedule.

Viktor claimed that Yūri was always surprising him, but Yūri wondered at that claim, if he was apparently so predictable.

He groaned, quickly disabling his alarm before answering the phone, ready to grumble sleepily into the phone in a half-hearted demand to know why Viktor was calling him when he should be training for the Grand Prix series.

Apparently Viktor anticipated this too, however, and the older male didn’t give him the chance to do so before he started softly crooning the lyrics of Duetto: Stammi Vicino, the instrumental track Yūri had put together of them playing the violin and piano parts playing in the background.

“Not fair, Vitya.” He sighed quietly, unable to resist the urge to join in when the second singer was meant to jump in. Absentmindedly, he wondered when they could commission a pair of actual singers to record the lyrical part of the song to make it complete.

Their song eventually came to an end, and it had done its job waking Yūri up enough that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep even if he hadn’t had the self-control not to push the snooze button, which he supposed was one of Viktor’s motives for calling when he had.

“You know I have to hop in the shower now, right?” Yūri yawned, carefully shaking out his leg, which had fallen asleep at some point during the night.

The pins and needles feeling was irritating, but it was sure as hell better than waking up with a Charlie Horse, which Yūri had been plagued with through his teenage years the first time around, but which now he was counteracting with vitamin supplements.

He smiled fondly as Viktor withheld a curse, now realizing his error in not waiting a little bit longer so he’d be able to talk longer. After a moment, Yūri decided to throw him a (metaphorical) bone.

 

“How about I stay on the phone and take my morning jog first?” he suggested, and then muttered lowly to himself that showering _after_ he worked up a sweat would probably be a better idea anyway.

“Yes, please.” Viktor said, only slightly sheepish, before filling him in on the gossip in Saint Petersburg, particularly regarding the people Yūri had gotten to know before.

Yūri hummed thoughtfully as he pulled on his running shoes, having already worn something decent enough to wear outside as his pajamas, and made his way out of the apartment.

He blinked, having not expected it to be quite so dark, before remembering that the original plan had been to wait until a fair bit later before going outside.

His morning jog might be a bit more interesting in the dark, only the slightest hint of blue creeping up over the horizon, though the sun wouldn’t be up for a while yet.

Probably best to be careful. Not only would any cars have a harder time seeing him, but obviously he didn’t want anyone sneaking up on him, either.

Mari had, at Minako’s insistence, bought them both cans of mace and a taser just in case, but Yūri would prefer not to have cause to use it, so he ran at a speed that any would-be attackers would be hard-pressed to match, and even then Yūri knew that with stamina (which had become near legendary in the future), he could outlast practically anyone.

His jog lasted a few blocks, talking with Viktor all the while, before he realized that he should probably get back, and he bid his reluctant husband goodbye before taking a quick shower and brushing his teeth. After that, he looked down at the bathroom counter in deliberation, eyeing the contacts case and wondering if he should bother.

On the one hand, glasses were easier and he wasn’t forced to poke and prod at his own eyeballs in order to use them.

On the other, he was a professional athlete, and over the years as a coach beside Vitya he’d realized how he’d put himself at a disadvantage by limiting his eyesight during competitions, since he’d never used contacts before their wedding.

He’d also had a fair few pairs of glasses broken during his physical education classes back in Japan over the years, and when he’d taken them off he’d sometimes take a sports ball to the face because he didn’t see it coming soon enough, so…

Well, damn.

Maybe he’d just switch right before his PE class, and then keep them in until the end of the day, so they’d already be in during his training later?

It would probably just be easier to put them in when he woke up, but honestly, his eyes were too tired for them that early in the morning.

“Yūri, come eat!” Mari called, breaking him out of his musings, and Yūri blinked, realizing how hungry he was, and shoved the case into his backpack.

~

Yūri hummed quietly to himself as he opened his locker and grabbed his textbooks for his first few classes, having not only memorized his schedule and the classroom numbers but their locations from the school map all incoming students had been provided with at orientation.

Homeroom was first, and he strode towards the room confidently, absentmindedly noting that he had that same teacher for English as well, which was likely intentional so he could ask for help if needed.

He entered the room, choosing a seat in the middle row, right beside the window so he could focus on the outside in case his anxiety popped up and he needed a distraction.

“Hey Freshman, I think you might be in the wrong room.” A voice called from behind him, and it took a moment for Yūri to realize that it was directed at him. He raised an eyebrow at the boy who had spoken. “All the short-stacks are supposed to be in the next hall.”

“Pretty sure my schedule says otherwise.” He said dryly, sympathizing with Yurio’s irritation whenever someone pointed out how short he’d been before puberty had really hit.

“Are you sure you’re not the one who’s lost, John?” another girl spoke from where she was sitting two seats away from Yūri. “No shame in admitting it.”

Yūri’s lips quirked into a smile at the wry expression on the girl’s face, and the scowl on the boy’s.

“Shut up, Schuyler.” He snapped, turning his attention back towards his group of friends.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s all bark and no bite.” The girl, Schuyler, informed him as she reached over the desk between them to shake his hand, which Yūri accepted.

“So it seems.” He agreed, slightly amused. “Thanks for the help. My name’s Yūri. Katsuki Yūri.”

“Mason. Schuyler Mason.” She returned with a wink, and Yūri realized she was making a James Bond joke, and snorted.

“I’m Japanese.” He explained. “My first name is Yūri, but we write our family names first.”

“Oh.” She blushed slightly, looking a little embarrassed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no, don’t worry about it.” He waved off her apology, hoping the expression on his face was enough to calm the girl down and reassure her that he hadn’t taken offense.

He was about to continue, but their teacher walked into the room, introducing herself and having them do the dreaded (and cliché) first-day-of-school introductions, having them each stand up and provide their name and one ‘interesting’ fact.

Yūri tried not to let his anxiety flare up at the prospect, instead doing his best to focus on memorizing the names of his new classmates. As the column he was sitting in came up, though, he realized that he didn’t know what to say.

He’s Japanese?

Pretty obvious.

He’s a figure skater?

Too much scrutiny.

Something about Viktor?

He wouldn’t be able to shut up.

That he’s a time traveler?

If he wanted to be committed, sure.

And then it was his turn.

“Ano…my name is Yūri Katsuki, and…” he tried to think of an ‘interesting’ fact about himself. ‘I…play the piano?”

The teacher blinked at him in surprise as he sat back down, obviously knowing of his figure skating and apparently having expected him to say something about that, but didn’t push.

“Nerd.” The boy from earlier muttered.

Schuyler, who had smiled at Yūri encouragingly during his turn, perhaps sensing his anxiety, scowled back at John before glancing at Yūri to see how he was handling the mocking, only to see the Japanese boy roll his eyes, unbothered.

As the teacher went through the day’s announcements and let them know what to expect, she hummed, thinking to herself that hopefully Yūri would become a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3
> 
> As you recall from her very brief mention in the original, Schuyler isn’t attracted to guys, so no need to worry about any attempts to get with together with Yūri. :P
> 
> Also, Yuuri's fan club will start popping up shortly. Just give him time to enthrall his classmates. ;)


	21. There's Something about Him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :D

Schuyler found herself, very quickly, having the position of the only person at school that had had any real progress in befriending Yūri, though many others had quickly made their own attempts after realizing how intriguing he was.

Luckily, Yūri seemed to have a knack for being able to tell between people who were genuine in their interactions with him and those who were just trying to figure him out or ingratiate themselves with him.

An odd talent, to be sure, but dead useful.

Schuyler couldn’t help but wonder how he’d developed the skill, but she wasn’t a gossip, and didn’t want to ask him since it was none of her business.

In hindsight, maybe that was _why_ she was the only one so far whose relationship with the Japanese boy had developed further than friendly acquaintances.

She’d had to deal with a few sneers from people who thought she was just trying to get together with the boy (his soulful brown eyes paired with the muscles that had become apparent during physical education had quickly gained a lot of admirers despite the fact that he was only fourteen), but they usually backed off once she reminded them that her tastes lay in the other direction.

As did his, she knew, having heard him answer his cell phone at one point to hear a clearly male voice greet him. They’d gone on to speak in the oddest combination of languages Schuyler had ever heard: a few words of English, then a smattering of phrases in Japanese, topped off by what she thought might be Russian.

Once she’d picked her jaw up from the floor at the newfound knowledge that Yūri was even more skilled with languages than any of them had thought, she had the chance to catch a glimpse of his face, and based on what she saw she was pretty certain none of his admirers stood a chance in hell.

Hard to seduce someone whose heart is completely, utterly taken by someone else.

When the call ended, he apologized profusely for ignoring her, luckily not at all angry that she hadn’t bothered to leave while he was on the phone as he sheepishly explained that that was his boyfriend (she did a mental fist bump as her suspicion was proven to be correct) and, due to the time difference since he was on the other side of the world, their schedules made for some odd times to call each other.

She was hesitant to ask for more, since he’d made it obvious in his interactions with some of their other schoolmates that he respected his privacy, but…looked like she’d found a topic he was more than happy to talk about for as long as she let him.

His boyfriend’s name was Viktor, he told her. The third language she’d heard them speak in had indeed been Russian, and the pair had worked to learn the other’s language as they started falling in love.

When she wondered aloud what being in a long-distance relationship was like (regretting it immediately when a certain wistfulness overtook his expression), he mentioned that it was hard, but also or the best right now, because Viktor was eighteen and they didn’t want anyone trying to tear them apart because of their age difference. His sister knew, and had chaperoned them the entire time on the one occasion they’d been able to meet up in person, but to anyone else they knew, they’d never met.

Her eyes widened, trying not to be concerned for her friend until she realized that Yūri was obviously entirely aware of how the situation looked. The fact that Viktor hadn’t protested having Yūri’s older sister as a chaperone so they could be alone also gave him a few brownie points in her mind, though she would reserve judgment until she had a chance to meet him.

~

So basically, that was her situation.

Trying not to bite her lip and laugh at loud about the hushed whispers she heard from various people planning to ask Yūri out and claim him for themselves, feeling a bit bad for some of them but hardly willing to tell them Yūri’s relationship status to try and prevent it.

Besides, if the past couple of days where anything to go by, where some of Yūri’s admirers had already made attempts to get his attention, Schuyler wasn’t sure her friend would even _notice._

It was weird, since from what she’d gathered attention wasn’t something that was unfamiliar to him, but he seemed to just assume that whenever someone was asking him out, it was to hang out platonically. And that was only during the few times he realized they were trying to invite him somewhere.

Maybe, since he was so besotted with his Russian, he’d just crossed himself off the imaginary list of eligible bachelors at the school, not realizing that no one else would dismiss him as an option since they didn’t know he was already taken?

Either that, or…maybe he didn’t think himself worthy of the attention, and therefore didn’t understand why anyone would bother?

She really hoped it was first option, since her friend was amazing and deserved all of the nice things that the world had to offer, but she got the feeling it was the other reason.

~

A week after school started, the study body (or at least the ones who were around Yūri) saw something that only added to the transfer student’s intrigue.

Throughout the day, their teachers had handed him stacks of paper, telling him when he was expected to turn them in, before most offered him an encouraging pat on the shoulder or nod before sending him on his way.

He’d told Schuyler he’d be gone for a few days, but before she could ask about it, he was off to wherever he went after school every day in such a hurry. If it hadn’t been for the fact that it was a daily occurrence, she would wonder if he was trying to avoid an interrogation, but he should know by now that she wouldn’t try and nose her way into his life. At least, not without reason.

When he came back the next week on Tuesday, he’d sheepishly apologized to the teachers as he turned in what was probably homework, muttering something about not being able to get a flight in time to come back on Monday. They waved away his apologies with sympathetic smiles, congratulating him on his performance and scolding him for not using the extension he’d been given.

This, of course, just confused the student populace more.

Schuyler didn’t know what the teachers had meant any more than the rest, but she did her best to run interference so no one would ask Yūri directly.

After all, if he hadn’t mentioned it, whatever it was, he probably didn’t want to make it known, right?

Still, that didn’t stop people from speculating.

Yūri let slip that he had been in Mexico City during his absence, and the teachers had hinted that the reason he was gone was for some sort of competition.

A couple of people in their homeroom put forth the theory that it was some sort of music thing, since Yūri had mentioned being able to play the piano that first day, and he was often seen gracefully moving his fingers over the surface of his desk as if playing out a song stuck in his head, tapping too quietly to make noise.

Unfortunately, even with that compelling evidence, it seemed like that theory was a bust, because when people tried to look it up, they weren’t able to find any music-related competitions in the area during that timeframe.

Honestly, Schuyler knew that he’d probably tell her if she asked, but she wanted him to open up to her on his own time, like when he’d mentioned Viktor.  

Didn’t stop her from being curious, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! <3
> 
> Note: I changed the spelling of Schuyler's name from Skyler. I'd been intending to do the former but decided against it, using the second, but then I didn't realize it and used the 'Schuyler' spelling for this one. Guess it's just ingrained in me since I had a good friend with that spelling of it, so I'll switch over permanently.
> 
> As for Yuuri, I had him assigned to the Mexico Cup qualifier instead of The Hague just to switch things up a bit. He'll have to find some other way to get out of attending that dance from the original that being in the Netherlands at the time got him out of. :P 
> 
> What happened while he was in Mexico City?
> 
> Well, obviously he easily qualified for the Junior Grand Prix Final, and he got extremely close to breaking Viktor's world record as it stood at this point in the story, not because he couldn't have surpassed it but because he wants to wait for the finals to do so. This evidence that his performance in Courchevel wasn't a fluke gained more attention from potential sponsors, too.


	22. Author's Note: TEMPORARY Hiatus

Hey guys!

Thought I'd let you know that, though I swear I have zero intention of abandoning this, I'm extremely busy right now (and will be for the rest of the year), so I don't have any time to write, and on the rare occasions I do I'll be de-stressing by reading, instead. Forcing yourself to write when you're not in the mindset never ends well, so I won't try.

I'm hoping the chaos at work (I work customer service for a credit card company and was just cross-trained in another department as well, so you can imagine how busy it's going to be during the holiday season) will end by January, but who knows?

Thanks for being patient with me!

-Raven


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